El Viejo Baúl

I lifted the lid of an old trunk
Drops of tears I left there
I closed my hand and clenched
A white paper stained with blue

Those stains that I found there
Had nostalgia and a little love
That's why my soul cried with pain
When I started to read that white paper

It said about the noise of a ravine
That creaks in the mountain
Near my town

It begs me to go
To see the old hut
Near its waterfall

It spoke of the jungle of the old hut, the dark path
Where Imelda is found

It spoke of the jungle of the old hut, the dark path
Where Imelda is found

Victor and Segundo Gonzalez, defenders of our folklore

Today the ravine's creak is not heard
And it begs me to return to its side
That hut has been left in mourning
Only memories of one who was loved remain there

That's why I must turn the white blue
Into a thousand pieces until I destroy
All the falsehoods I could keep
Deep in the old trunk

It said about the noise of a ravine
That creaks in the mountain
Near my town

It begs me to go
To see the old hut
Near its waterfall

It spoke of the jungle of the old hut, the dark path
Where Imelda is found

It spoke of the jungle of the old hut, the dark path
Where Imelda is found

And in the stone corolinto Rómulo Ramos
And his buddy Juancho Game