La Añoradora

Here I am, kinda lost, far from my hometown
Like a little weed that dies if the salt flats don’t grow

Oh, who could turn into the spirit and the salamander?
Be the soul of the folk songs and the traditional tunes

Wandering through the carnivals on the festive paths
When the afternoons get wild with parties in the trenches

God, I hope when I die, an old fiddler
Plays a folk song from my hometown, Salavina

Oh, my life, how much sorrow for not seeing my folks
The music stayed with them, and they’re waiting for me there

Thinking of my hometown, what wouldn’t I give to return?
If all I have left are my memories and yearnings

There’s nothing like going to Salavina to dance the folk song
The old Quechua folks say the tricky steps aren’t for everyone

God, I hope when I die, an old fiddler
Plays a folk song from my hometown, Salavina