A keresés eredménye

Looking for your love

From far away
I come looking for your love.
If you look at me with contempt
I go away crying.
And if you are firm with me,
constant I am.
 
Inside the chest, hidden,
I bring you a flower.
If you don't want it, my life,
I leave it and I go away.
And if you are firm with me,
constant I am.
 
Flower that has been born in the soul
and in the heart.
If your scorn kill me
I go away crying.
And if you are firm with me,
constant I am.
 
It's nice to constantly love
as I love you,
to death
Oh, how handsome (death is)
(if I'm) dying for you!
 
And if you are firm with me,
constant I am,
constant I am.
 

Atamishqui or Salavina

I don't know which one to stay with:
Atamishqui or Salavina,
I will be a bird flying
with my yearning divided (between one place and the other).
 
If the growing river comes
moving forward through the fields
I will go away with my sadness
bordering the wetlands.
 
Of starry nights
I will cry with the vidalas*
ancient distances
in the soul preserved.
 
I don't know which one to stay with:
Atamishqui or Salavina,
two homelands without borders
tied together by life.
 
I will retrace the path
of that old vidalero
who remained bewitched
by the hill and its mysteries.
 
If the strings of violins and guitars
have been cut,
the sweetest memories
feed my nostalgia.
 
I will be a lost trail
by the saltpetre mine,
subdued rumours
of distant carnivals.
 
I don't know which one to stay with:
Atamishqui or Salavina,
two homelands without borders
tied together by life.
 

Sacherita

When you remember, my love,
sad it shall be for you,
my shadows you will miss
and then you shall cry for me.
 
They say that you have cried
for a love that knew used to love you.
I also lost a love that
I loved for real, but I don't know how to cry.
 
When I'm absent from here
A lot you shall feel.
My heart is saying
'My return when will it be?'
Do not cry girl
if I shall come back.
 

On the road to Villa Nueva

Memory of a yesterday
when I met you,
for all your love
you offered (it) to me.
 
There a love was born
because of you beautiful woman,
and time gave us
that joyfulness of a love.
 
How to forget it if it was
an peerless idyll
lived between both (of us)
in that beautiful place!
 
On the way to that jebar
landscape like Eden,
to my hometown
New Villa of my love.
 
Today alone when remembering
I'm fullfullied with emotion
bliss and happiness
they enthral my heart.
 
Charm of living
so united the two of us
and relive your love
as a blessing of God.
 

So as to name you wherever

In!
 
It's over!
 
Good!
 

I suffer without you

Recitation:
 
Today I sense that there in heaven
my mom is watching me
as asking and pleading
that my guitar does not fall silent.
 
I entered the thickest hill
to look for you vidala,
I only compare you
with the most loved woman.
 
Singing:
 
I suffer because you walk away
great is my pain.
I have decided to forget you:
I can not, my love.
 
Sad, very sad I stay
thinking about your love
 
Love of my life,
where may it be?
In vain I look for you so much,
you will not come back.
 
Sad, very sad I stay
thinking about your love
 
Days go by and go by.
What will be of me?
I only live in constant suffering:
I can not live.
 
Sad, very sad I stay
thinking about your love.
 

For love

Sixto:
 
Sing even a chacarera, man!
 
The other person replies:
 
For love, for pain, how do you want (it)?
 
Sixto:
 
For love ckancka mishquiecka (sweet barbecue)!
 
The other person replies:
 
Then that the first one comes!
 
Other!
 
In!
 
Singing:
 
Little velvet eyes
little red carnation mouth,
if you are already committed
give me your answer.
 
If your arms were jail
and your chest dungeon,
if I were a prisoner,
what a joyful prisoner!
 
I had a dream last night,
last night I dreamy again,
I dreamt I was in your arms
without being able to wake up.
 
I've ordered that you bury me
sat when I die
so that the people tell you:
'He died but he awaits you'.
 
Recitation:
 
The eyes of my brunette
are so big and so beautiful
that they don't deserve to cry
but that they're cried over.
 
Oh!
 
The other!
 
Force!
 
Singing:
 
I put my hand inside my pocket
I take out a purple ribbon,
if for you I lose my life
I say I don't lose anything.
 
To the river I threw a handkerchief
with five bouquets of flowers
they have half a lily
which is the flower of my loves.
 
Come on! come on!
 
Seven leagues I have run,
lass, just to see you again,
wet me with your charms
that I'm dying of thirst.
 
It's over!
 
The eyes have their girls,
the girls have their eyes,
behind the eyes of the girl
the lines of my eyes go.
 

Peasant Christmas carol

¡Chacarera yaya huahuitackay!
 
Chacarera for the little child, God!
 
Hey, very beautiful!
 
Get deep into it!
 
Sacha mamas ckasamuni
maypichus nacerahuacka
chakraishtachanckachispa
 
nian mana churinanpa.
 
From the hill I am looking for
the birth of the child
and the light of that star
is indicating me the way.
 
Sachas sisastapa amuni
adorna purisinanpa
ñahuinki charikichuani
canchachi kutin kikin llata.
 
Just there!
 
I take the flower of the hill for you
to decorate his cot,
I already see his eyes shine
because the moon illuminates him.
 
And the missing one comes!
 
There it goes!
 
Mishtol, chañar, algarroba
sandia, melo, zapallo,
huachuska pesebre kipin
nacin kikin canta gallo.
 
Mishtol, chañar, carob
melon, watermelon, pumpkin
hung from his crèche,
he's been born, the cock already sings.
 
Apurana purisckani
horn kikispa sisasckan
and premiata papusckani
ckaypi huahuita cantascka.
 
I'm hurrying my step,
I'm cutting more flowers,
as a prize I'm taking
these little singing children for him.
 

What a beautiful dream I dreamed

Akushu llaricku cari y tuta*
 
Yes my friend llaricko!
 
Get deep into it!
 
In!
 
I had dreamed of a child:
Jesus of Nazareth
he had been born in my hometown
what a beautiful dream I dreamed!
 
I also dreamed that the little child Jesus was born in Atamishqui*.
 
My uncles, the peasants,
they put the child at their feet
like a miracle in my town
oh, dream of love is He!
 
Very beautiful, Marcelito!
 
Very cute, Marcelito!
 
I bring you goat milk,
of the little donkey blue alfalfa,
also a pair of carob
for the little kid Jesus.
 
It's finishing!
 
It's over!
 
For, the dream that I've had
Jesus of Nazareth
had been born in Santiago
what a beautiful dream I dreamed!
 
Very beautiful, Marcelito!
 
And that comes the missing one!
 
There goes the missing one!
 
Let's get deep into it!
 
In!
 
I hit two axes, Maria,
and with the river my bread
I bring you a silver moon
and a flower of foam and salt.
 
Very sweet, oh!
 
How nice, Marcelito!
 
I am melero*, Mrs,
I have a honey clown,
the bouquets of trill
that in a cup I found.
 
My name is Marcelito
I found him the child God
that only cradle, quebracho
and a sun papaya tree.
 
It's finishing!
 
It's over!
 
For, the dream that I've had
Jesus of Nazareth
had been born in Santiago*
what a beautiful dream I dreamed!
 
Very sweet!
 

Gone times

Let's get started!
 
I was born there and there I was just raised,
my ranch is made of straw and mud
and there my past sleeps.
 
Talvesteando the junales
a little path was lost,
the smoke of its bend
my child may have gotten lost there.
 
In the palm of a quimil
I left my name noted down
in case one day I don't come back
so as the field doesn't forget me.
 
Gentlemen, I'm Junquero
I am creole and peasant
at my home the fortune,
the land where I've been born.
 
Amunchulla chusajnencka.
 
Yaykuyku!
 
As much as I go far
I will never forget
Posongo great heart
beautiful dust cloud.
 
Beautiful Posongo! Posondeños!
 
I am mishquilo because the river
has given me his surname,
you are so nice being dry
and you're so bad being enlarged.
 
I remember the little paths
where I used to go through,
I remember my gone times
and I sing so as not to crying.
 
Gentlemen I am Santiagueño
I don't deny my corner,
I am a sachero, hard tongue,
I speak when there is occasion to do so.
 

Happy hearts

Happy hearts!
 

Chacarera for my return

I left my singing land
in order to visit other places,
I go there through the roads
but my soul is in Santiago.
 
Since then I live alone
on the streets of life,
silent shadows that pass by,
guitars full of wounds.
 
Guitar full of wounds
and a song inside my chest is crying, crying.
 
When I go back
I don't know how nor when
the flame there shall tell you
how much I've longed for you.
 
From your distance to mine
there is a wooden cross,
a rose that you have left
and a dance of chacareras.
 
And a dance of chacareras
under this starry sky
where the drums sing like the cocuyos
with the wind and the sachayo.
 
And when sleeping, the night falls
over the foam of the river
on the wings of an ochkobo
so as not to die of coldness.
 
When I go back
I don't know how nor when
the flame there shall tell you
how much I've longed for you.
 

Santiago del Estero

In Santiago I met
a flower that perfumes my life.
Due to her charm I got lost,
due to her love, due to her passion.
 
I loved her so much
and I adored her sincerely
that in heartfelt serenade
I sang to her under the balcony
with all my love
with emotion and faith.
 
Santiago, old town of the ship
don't believe if I'm get happy
that maybe I will forget you,
I always remember with love
that it was on your streets that I lived an illusion.
 
And looking at the old river, the bridge over there,
I understood that in my memory you will not die.
How much emotion is to contemplate
your eucalyptus, your July sun,
four centuries of lineage,
mother of cities, you are my illusion!
 

Only the quebracho wept

The shadow rolled up
next to the eaves of the ranch.
 
It was a hot summer,
of those Santiago has.
 
And north wind day
they had scorched the pastures.
 
That's why Juan very early
along with his little boy
had gotten into the hill
to fight with the quebracho (to struggle with the labor of cutting its wood).
 
To cut and to carve the post
his daily work
although it was a hard trade
but he had inherited it
and with his farmer ax
he was almost an artisan.
 
Suddenly the little boy arrived
running to the ranch yard
and shouting 'Mum, my tata (father) has hurt himself!'
with a fierce and deep cut
the tata (father) remained there bleeding.
 
And thus almost without words
without sighs they arrived
there in a clearing of the hill
there was a half carved post
there was the ax with blood
and John lying by its side,
he had kept a few words,
it was to tell them something:
'Do not worry, I tell you, today you stop being a little child.
There you have my ax, look after it. You shall take care of your brothers. '
It was the last thing he said
and his voice gradually began to fade.
 
The sun was up
like a ember breaking.
two glances met,
none of them shed tears
because one has to go on with one's the life
to cut and to carve the post
and more if the fate has wanted
make a man of that little boy,
I'm sure that day
only the quebracho wept!