La Humilde

I am a chacarera
flesh of Salamanca
carob tree blood
fermenting in my heart.

Fever of sands
ignited in the tunales
little path of goats
falling asleep under a mistol.

I am from Santiago
like the Dulce and the Salado
born in the mountains
growing like the quebrachal.

I am humble
just like this chacarera
little weed of the field
blooming in the salt flat.

II
I am a chacarera
fresh trace in the wetlands
whistle in the jumiales
and dance on the sandy ground.

Moon's weeping
over the vidalero's cry
drum's beat
and strumming in the guitar playing.

I am the memory
and the feeling of my grandparents
muleteers of verses
born in the carnival.