En El Pajonal

Sipping mate around the fire
We are with some friends waiting for dawn
The dogs? Sleeping, curled up under the harsh frost
Past anecdotes emerge to ease the nerves
Mixing it with a joke that brings laughter
From our throats knotted with longing
The Sun takes its time, and the pajonal waits

The silence of the early morning lets us hear a distant snort
And the cold runs down our backs
Mud, water, and reeds await us, some tough battle and then the hustle
The daggers play in our eager, sharpened hands for battle
The glow of dawn reveals the open field
And more than one looks up as if to start the journey
Showing the courage that drives

The dogs stretch knowing the moment is near and we are ready
Precise orders for them, knife, longing, and fear
Not forgetting the optimism that turns fear into courage
Needle and thread to stitch up the dogs if necessary
Because you don't always win and those are the anecdotes that make us hesitate
And are told very few times, but exist in our minds
A 'Never again inside the pajonal' is heard as a whisper
But the following week it disappears again and it's hard not to return
There we forget about the world and our desires that persist in the hunt

The freedom to be prey or hunter, and that's what matters
Navigate mud, water, or whatever the pajonal brings up
A wild boar that makes us feel useless against its savage strength
Getting stuck at the bottom of a canal, feeling cornered
Seeing that even the most seasoned gaucho no longer wants to go on
But the hunter knows the limit, and the will to know oneself as a man
Makes courage come, and carrying his own bones and then
The fight... With the snouted one in front cutting the air with eyes searching for the rival, the dogs are on your side, but not for long
Fatigue also reaches them, like any mortal

Until the end where the shelter arrives, where the soul returns to the body
Where the mates taste like a battle won, a new campfire story
Where the bite becomes enjoyable and earned
You see, it's not that difficult, but don't think it's a walk in the park, that's how it is
There are those who dare and those who listen
And I'm already greeting them to make them think... That's right
May their souls not be haunted by not daring
So, don't think too much about it, it's for men the matter
It's not for gauchos to sit and wait
Know that life is short, and don't let it end
And never enter the pajonal