Milonga de Dos Hermanos

Let the guitar bring tales
of when the iron shone,
tales of card games and dice,
of horse races and cups,
tales of the wild coast
and the path of the troops.

Let a story from yesterday come
that the slowest will appreciate;
destiny makes no deals
and no one blames it
I see that tonight
memories from the south are coming.

Listen, gentlemen, to the story
of the Iberra brothers,
men of love and war
and the first in danger,
the flower of the knife fighters
now covered by the earth.

Men often lose
to pride or greed:
even courage corrupts
those who face night and day
the younger one should
face more deaths to justice.

When Juan Iberra saw
that the younger one surpassed him,
his patience ran out
and he set up some kind of trap
he killed him with a shot,
there on the wild coast.

Without delay and without haste
he laid him on the tracks
so the train would run over him.
The train left him faceless,
which is what the elder wanted.

So faithfully
I told the story to the end;
it's the story of Cain
who keeps killing Abel