2018.10.07.
Longings
When I left Santiagoall the way I cried,
I cried without knowing why
but I assure you
that my heart is hard
but that day I loosened.
I left that dear soil
and the ranch where I was born,
where I lived so happy
cheerfully singing.
Instead today I cry constantly
just like the crespin.
The years nor the distance
could never get to set you aside
from my memory
nor make me forget you.
Oh dear Santiago
I miss your quebrachal.
Tomorrow when I die
if someone remembers me,
peasants I will ask you
if you want to give me the Glory
that you play to my memory
the doble that I sing here.
In my hours of sadness
I always think
how can some peasants
forget
ranch, father, mother, brother
so easily.
Santiagueño shall not be
the one that behaves in that way:
to despise the chacarera
for another imported dance.
That is to see her sullied,
our rural (peasant) race.
The other night my pillows,
I found them wet, but
I ignore if I dreamed
or is that I cried awoken
and in the distance I looked
the ranch that I left.
Maybe in the cemetery
there is no place for me
peasants I will ask you
before the time comes
throw me in the open field
but there where I was born.