Estoy de vuelta

I left alone, I returned sad,
through the streets of my town,
every time I return to Salta
a folk song goes out into the wind.

Embraced to my guitar
I walk through old airs,
through the paths of the zamba
and the bagualeros' routes.

I left alone, I returned sad,
through the streets wounded,
fortunately, while playing the guitar
some friend was waiting for me.

You asked me to tell you
about my absence with the guitar,
I will tell you that I roamed free,
turned into a zamba and dust.

Through Santiago sun and drum,
through Horan and Chomadera,
through Jujuy and in Cacharpaya,
and here in Salta I'm back.