Jose Antonío
SOLEDAD
Jose Antonio
On a path comes
riding Jose Antonio,
he comes from the ravine
to see the Amancaes flower.
In a traditional trot
he goes along the road
with a bandana
and a white linen poncho.
While the morning runs
his memory plays
and with joyful frolic
the horse prances.
Fine drizzle of June
kisses his cheeks
and four hooves singing
go on the way to Amancaes.
How handsome my horse is
how elegant and dashing
holding the fine silk reins
that are white and red.
How sweetly he controls the bit
with just silk ribbons
as he gracefully trots
in the traditional trot.
You, my land that is soft
gave him a strange gait
teaching him the smooth pace
no longer a stumbling gait.
Feel how you removed
the roughness of the trot
that back in his homeland
sands hurt him.
Fine rhythm in the hindquarters
shiny silk in the mane
the tender and alert nerve
for the desire of the master.
He no longer raises his hands
to fight with the sand
his Peruvian pace
is now imprinted in time.
Jose Antonio, Jose Antonio
why did you leave me here
when I meet you again
may it be June and drizzling.
I will snuggle against your back
under your linen poncho
and in the hat ribbons
I want to see the Amancaes.
When you take me behind you
from your achieved dream
on your Peruvian paso horse
that you gather for yourself.
When you take me behind you
from your achieved dream
on your Peruvian paso horse
that you gather for yourself.
