Quando Sopra o Minuano

Minuano is blowing, whistling tonight
Trooping its ghosts, trooping
And the souls pass by riding on horseback
Ghosts of the past in the rush of traditions

Rise up gaucho, everyone needs to walk
Minuano is calling, Rio Grande needs to listen

Come fly with me with the minuano
In the ride of these tough-haired souls
In this rush where generations unite
Where the old traditions guide the future

And the minuano runs wildly
That the cold itself warms the heart of people
And the whole heart opens and expands
So that in our blood enters
The very blood of Rio Grande