Canción Para Mercedes

Gonna throw in the air
A song to ride
Gallop in the pollen
Tropical of our jungle

It will soar the Andes
Until reaching the pampas
To kiss the forehead
Of a legendary woman

A song that the wind
Matured in my soul
With scraps of night
With pieces of dawn

A humble song
That, with hope
Kept collecting feathers
Until completing its wings

Gonna throw in the name
Of the American homeland
That in huge bloom
Makes its belly beautiful

Gonna put combat strings
On my guitar
And sing lovingly
A song for Mercedes

She's the good black woman
And the singing mother
And the transhumant voice
Of the crying Argentina

Mothers on pilgrimage
In the Plaza de Mayo
Carry the absent son
Drawn on their faces

Gonna sing in the name
Of the joyful guitarist
Throw the bolas
Of the gaucho who sings and dreams

To evoke the ancestral fury
Of Martin Fierro
I'll sing to Mercedes
Because inside, she carries it
I'll sing to Mercedes
Because inside, she carries it

Gonna ask permission
To the pain in my throat
And ask Pepe
To tune my guitar

Drink the 'sad wine'
From Armando and his harvest
Sing for Argentina
Sing for Mercedes

Sing to her tenderness
And also to her anger
Sing to the beauty
With which her voice unfolds

(spoken)
"A kiss my black woman
A kiss to your people
A kiss to Argentina"