Chivilcoy

Next to the old trail
of the wagon,
like a spot to keep
tradition alive.
Facing the past,
nailed down like a marker.

While it floats in the moan of your guitars
a warm emotion.

That's how I've seen you pass
Sentimental
and I've wanted to sing to you
like a thrush;
that filled with passion
gives you its flow
of simple emotion.

Town...
Under a little piece of your sky
I'll make a little hut of reeds
to live more pure and good.

Town...
Tied to your corral
I'll hold my head higher
and my heart calmer.