Arpa Que Me Rinde El Sueño

Harp that gives me sleep
What a good thing, damn
Forgive me for the expression
That the thought brought me
But it is that to speak refined
It's very difficult for me

It will be because I am more Creole
True family that cinch
Artezon and rennet
The one who grew up with a topocho
And dried meat in tatajo
And they discover me because I'm a veguerito
When I travel

Today I bring to the conversation a matter, my friend
You have me downcast
The day before yesterday I was in life
Flying from branch to branch
Singing and eating fruit
The same as a jay

I walked all over the plain
Lease like a colt without a shortcut
But time is slowing down
Little by little the body is lost
And that is a very low blow for a party-goer

When the colt of memory
I open the door, false and barred
The longings come to me
How to make my complaint
Why don't they put dances?
Creoles with good partners

That after one left
The strain of the staves
They were whispering in his ear
That's when one gets
That what he speaks he takes on
With the image of a lady
Stuck between the eyebrows

True family when you are a boy
They shake the cement and they get dislocated
The tiles
He gets stubborn and doesn't understand any more twists
That a torreja seemed
That the brain went out through the gizzard

Thank goodness I picked up some time later
My basics all in one
Tray
Today I live on memories
With my children and my old lady
Working tirelessly
Like the bachaco and the sheep

Yesterday I went out to the savannah
I stood looking far away
I remembered when I was riding
A chinstrap colt
Who rode and bullfought
And it was safe for sure

When I went out to dance, I would play harp to give me sleep
Between sticks of aged wine
How to forget the girl
With a tile look
That I cried saying
Come and kill me, I'll leave you

Suddenly a heifer
He ran it across my chin with
Rabbit's haze
I didn't do anything to link it
I just looked at her perplexed but I felt
That in my blood came out of my skin

I left for the ranch right away
Old Carmen Castorila
Tramolindo your advice
I cried in a corner of the room telling myself
In the mirror what a thing
Jorge Fernando
You're getting old already