Aromas de Tiempos Viejos (Milonga)

I come from afar, my friend
Following the trail of memories
And I bring with my songs
Scents of old times
Moors, plains, and tiles
My notable verses tell
And as I push through the gates
That closed off our past
I pass through, just like before
The hordes did in a rush

The gauchos sing in my voice
With the pride of the pampero
Waving in the guitar
Where courage is tempered
I’m of the native lineage
That without show or bling
With simple tools as chisels
Bronzes etched in shadows
When they conquered with a blade
Laurels for the homeland

I wear the heroic attire
That was a pride of a lineage
Because carrying something of theirs
Makes me feel the ground is more mine
My song isn’t a challenge
A taunt or insolent shout
It’s just a voice, you see
But tied to the past
It can be the clarion call
That wakes the indifferent

I feel that in every song
When it spreads its wings
Something of Hernández or Vega
Brings emotion to my accent
I open a path to the expanse
Towards distant dawns
And recalling the creators
Of our rural muse
To the free-spirited flag bearers
Of the old payadores