A keresés eredménye

The Ride

At times I don’t grasp my roll around the world,
this measuring of land and road and sea

Burruyacú

On a dapple-grey horse with a good hoofprint
while wearing a red and blue poncho
I came to your hills, Burruyacú
to see a gaucha woman's eyes.
 
While the moon, tender lamp
gave its light above the fields
I went singing my little vidalas
on your sands, Burruyacú.
 
The times are leaving
like leaves in autumn leave, leave
but I carry you in my soul always
my beautiful home, my Tucumán.
 
To my little gaucha woman I gave my red and blue poncho as a souvenir
and one morning I left my home
and I bid you farewell, Burruyacú.
 
Maybe one day I will look for your shadow
and rest there under a cross
while the moon passes by while kissing
your chanarales, Burruyacú.
 
They are leaving...
 

The Forgotten One

I found this chacarera
It was mourning by the sand
Over a boy from Barrancas
Who'll never see the shrubs of jume 1 again
 
That's how a fellow countryman
From Salavina sang
Under a carob tree
One January afternoon
 
I'm leaving, I'm leaving now
On my way to Chilca Juliana
Oh my darling no one knows
What awaits me after today
 
Barrancas, oh cherished land,
I leave you this chacarera.
Beloved, don't be untrue 2
To the one heading out to the countryside
 
My sweetheart has left me
She's gone to Chilca Juliana
She took the horse with the sulky 3
The bass drum, and the demijohn
 
I wish I were a tree
Not too big and not too small
So that I could give a bit of shade
To those who are weary from travel
 
I'm leaving, I'm leaving now,
Beautiful land, 4 Salavina
Perhaps I will never be able
To gaze at your Salinas again
 
Barrancas, oh cherished land,
I leave you this chacarera
Beloved, don't be untrue
To the one heading out to the countryside
 

• 1. The jume is a shrub that grows on salty soil near shores.
• 2. ama koncaichu or ama concaichu is in Quechua language, ama is a negation and koncaichu derives from betrayal.
• 3. sulki - English spelling: sulky is a lightweight cart
• 4. ashpa sumaj is in Quechua also

The Red-coloured One

I am from Cerro Colorao,
where it doesn´t usually rain,
when nobody crosses the river,
when this has the caprice to grow.
 
In stones and moldejones*
big and small people work
hammering all day,
for others to become rich.
 
A monkey was singing,
And in a flat load,
And the mule was saying:
'Pucha, what a life!'
 
The fox took a chicken away from me,
and one afternoon I trailed it,
I saw that he was wearing espadrilles,
and they were number ten (size, I guess).
 
I gave water to a scribble,
that was about to dry,
and he has paid me with flowers,
that rejoice my loneliness.
 
I went to Tacoyaco,
and to buy a marchador*,
and I brought a skinny bayt,
very short and snorer.
 
Chacarera, chacarera,
from my red-coloured hill,
the boy who is dancing
I'm going to choose it as brother-in-law.
 
The fox took a chicken away from me,
and one afternoon I trailed it,
I saw that he was wearing espadrilles,
and they were number ten (size, I guess).
 

Little Creole Santiagueña

Little Creole Santiagueña
gorgeous brunette,
for you the changos sing
their Santiagueña vidalitas.
 
 
Little Creole Santiagueña:
black eyelashes,
flower of the chañarales,
in the Santiagueña mornings.
 
 
 
       Others shall praise
 
       the nice-looking of the city.
 
       Little woman of the field,
 
       in this afternoon I want to give you
 
       this beautiful little zamba
 
       like your eyes, Santiagueña.
 
 
When are you going to bring water
from the dam,
you sweeten with your singing
all the Santiagueña naps.
 
 
Little Creole Santiagueña
sweet brunette,
I feel when you kiss me
that sweetness that honey gives.
 

The Age-Old One

Where is my heart
That left chasing hope?
I am afraid that the night
May also leave me soulless
 
I am afraid that the night
May also leave me soulless
 
Where is the little dove
That was crying at dawn?
It went far away, leaving
Its tears on my chest.
 
It went far away, leaving
Its tears on my chest.
 
When one leaves one's home
And one starts up on the winding paths
The horse pulls forward
And one's soul pulls back
 
The horse pulls foward
And one's soul pulls back
 
I have a very old sadness,
It is useless to throw it out,
And because it's a long-lasting one,
I have named it the Age-Old One
 
Where are my hopes,
Where are my joys?
The Age-Old One is that kind sadness,
And it is my only company.
 
The Age-Old One is that kind sadness,
And it is my only company.
 
When one leaves one's home
And one starts up on the winding paths
The horse pulls forward
And one's soul pulls back
 
The horse pulls forward
And one's soul pulls back
 

Beloved land

A beautiful voice, who would have it!,
to sing to you all life long,
but my fate gave me this accent,
and that's how I feel you, beloved land.
But my fate gave me this accent,
and that's how I feel you, beloved land.
 
Like a pebble that falls,
my shadow, dream and wound roams.
I'm fierce, like your rough ground,
and that's how I sing to you, beloved land.
I'm fierce, like your rough ground,
and that's how I sing to you, beloved land.
 
I'll go by the hills,
jungles and plains, all my life,
bringing over coplas
to your hope, beloved land.
Bringing over coplas
to your hope, beloved land.
 
Warm zondas1 give me their fire,
wild pamperos2 give me their strength,
and in the silence of the ravines,
roams the shadow of my grandparents.
And in the silence of the ravines,
roams the shadow of my grandparents.
 
Moons saw me by these hills,
and in the nightfall plains
looking for the soul of your landscapes,
to sing to you, beloved land.
Looking for the soul of your landscapes,
to sing to you, beloved land.
 
I'll go by the hills,
jungles and plains, all my life,
bringing over coplas
to your hope, beloved land.
Bringing over coplas
to your hope, beloved land.
 

• 1. The Zonda is a hot dry wind on the north of Argentina
• 2. The Pampero is a cold strong wind on the south of Argentina

This translation by Diazepan Medina is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.

The lost milonga

The milonga got lost
They can't find it
Some say they saw it
Near to San Nicolas.
 
Gorosito the herdsman
Southern of the Puan 1 side
Asserts that he saw it
By the shore of the sea.
 
And goes over there what says
Mr Gabino, the foreman
That he felt it very grumbling
There by the Paternal 2
 
The milonga got lost
They can't find it.
 
There's always who affirms
He heard it in a hallway
In the lips of a brunette
Decoration of loneliness.
 
The air of milonga
One doesn't lose it like that
While there's a guitar
Of Argentina or Uruguayan
 
Maybe it has changed a little
But is the same one,
Darkened in the pampa
Outdated in the city.
 
The milonga got lost
They can't find it.
 

• 1. a town in the province of Buenos Aires
• 2. A neighbourhood of Buenos Aires

This translation by Diazepan Medina is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. It doesn't apply to the translations with a source.