El Desafio (Milonga)

I run with my spotted horse
To Cirilo's chestnut
And I don't ask for a single peso
Like he did to the sorrel
Nicasio, with his flag
And as a judge, Don Zenón
To run from the gate
All the way, to the corner
And I bet even my saddle
And pledge even my knife!

I don't respect gentlemen
State, nor hair, nor brand
And the one from the ranch is La Zarca
They can skin him!
I'm not scared of the tough ones
With a hat or a trumpet
It's not the first scoundrel
That here, in the corner of Las Latas
I've made kick up their legs
And also shut their mouth!

They accept and unsaddle
Leaving on the saddle
Boots, knife, and hat
And his neckerchief becomes a headband
He goes from the field to the shore
Instead of a whip, two
With faith in his God
As a legitimate hope
For the sides of the scale
To equal sixty-two

He got a bay roan
Branded by Hilarión Contreras
Who had won more races
Than the blood-red bull
He was ridden by a lad Floro
A very good country runner
Leading and cunning
To raise the flag
As no one could beat him
He always took the lead!

The rival of the young man
Who felt challenged
Loaded to match the weight
Half a kilo of ammunition
He was surrounded by a bunch
Cheering on his side
Others, clapping for the spotted one
Following the track
As if they already saw
A victory guaranteed

And why keep narrating
What that race was like
If any outsider
Will be calculating it
They were maneuvering
Missing and missing the start
Until in a sprint
The flag went down
And the roan and the spotted one
Were a shining light

And he felt: They hit it!
And it was a close match
They didn't give up an inch
And the whips came down
And when they finally passed
Among the crowd and the railbirds
And amidst applause and hats
Waving in joy
The judge shouted, decisive
Just bet, gentlemen!