Zamba de Otoño
Atahualpa Yupanqui
Autumn Zamba
(Zamba)
The old copper from the hills,
autumn is sowing its seeds,
and in the guitars of the fields,
the songs of loneliness are born.
And in the guitars of the fields,
the songs of loneliness are born.
The springs are covered,
the north wind blows by,
and there in the ravines of the hill,
the echoes of that carnival burn away.
And there in the ravines of the hill,
the echoes of that carnival burn away.
With the morning star,
I'll climb the slopes,
the roosters are already crowing,
it feels like a life I won't return to.
Goodbye my beloved hills,
my painted stones,
I won't be back.
Stars that lit my way,
paths that I walked,
I've been battered by all the winds,
I lived a life wounded by songs.
I've been battered by all the winds,
I lived a life wounded by songs.
In a cave on the hill,
I hid my heart,
what do I want it for,
it's only brought me work and hardship.
What do I want it for,
it's only brought me work and hardship.
With the morning star,
I'll climb the slopes,
the roosters are already crowing,
it feels like a life I won't return to.
Goodbye my beloved hills,
my painted stones,
I won't be back.
