Cantores Del Alba

There are four singers
Who light up the dawn
With zambas, bagualas
In the cacharpayas

The birds don’t sing
The sun rises dull
And you cry guitar
A lament for mataco

The creole waltzes
With the serenades
Turn into nostalgia
In every throat

They are four singers
The spirits of my soul
Tutú steps into the ring
Singers of the dawn

From the drum’s skin
A lament is heard
To a sky you’ve gone
Javier the bagualero

Like a bordona
Your throat rang out
Now the wine’s not wine
Gilberto doesn’t sing

Wood that resonates
In a single cry
For that guitar
Silent of Horacio