Camino del Tucumán

Trotting comes the night
through dark traces of dreams.
The moon, running and running,
tires out the
weary and slow oxen...

With the blot of her absence
she is staining silently...
and the wheels are crying
as they go
road to Tucumán...

No need to rush, damn it!...
Let's go slowly, just...
After all, walking is my fate
and destiny
is a goal
that I already have in the cart...

No need to rush, damn it,
her percale is no longer here...
If she left as she came,
sad shadow on the road
that cut through my loneliness...

White with death her face,
she was bitter and cold...
They took her at dawn,
riding on my roan,
road to the day...

I stayed with her braids
and she took my memory
so it screams in the traces,
that go
road to Tucumán...