Mañana Es Domingo

Tomorrow is Sunday, let me wash myself!
Gently, mom, with scented soap
Iron my handkerchief to wear around my neck
Shake off the suit the doctor gave me

Tomorrow is Sunday, at dawn
Mounted on my mule, I'll become a partridge
I'll cross the stream, go down the slope
And in my mouth a song that is sung like this

Chuncana serrana with lips of scarlet and breath of citron
The one with eyes of fire who doesn't heed the plea of my heart
Chuncana serrana, color of an apple painted by the Sun
I entrust my fate to you, with a strong kiss from your flowery snout

Tomorrow is Sunday, I'll pray at mass
Before going to 'ño sofanor's ranch
I'll take care of the youngest of the seven girls
And bring her a bouquet of lovely color

Tomorrow is Sunday, I'll play dice
In a big bottle, I'll drink liquor
I'll spend the afternoon, brave with courage
Entering the dens of temptation

And when night falls, I'll return to the mountains
If I'm not imprisoned for some slip
Singing to the Moon, perhaps with sadness
That manly song that is sung like this

Chuncana serrana with lips of scarlet and breath of citron
The one with eyes of fire who doesn't heed the plea of my heart
Chuncana serrana, color of an apple painted by the Sun
I entrust my fate to you, with a strong kiss from your flowery snout