Lo Pasto Verde
José Larralde
The Green Pasture
Wet, from distant memories
Abandoned house of a sweet yesterday
Time of the green pasture
Zamba of courage made woman
Time of the green pasture
Zamba of courage made woman
Brave gaucho in the southern forts
Beautiful flower of the jarillal
A thousand soldiers wanted you
But the land wanted you more
A thousand soldiers wanted you
But the land wanted you more
On the fence among the stones where your voice sleeps
My guitar cried
Alone this little zamba at night
Wants to give you light
Because it hurts her to hear
That the Neuquén cowboy forgot you
Who called you fresh green pasture
Perhaps they felt your scent
Poem of the deserts
Verses of a troubadour who passed by
Poem of the deserts
Verses of a troubadour who passed by
Maybe they talk about your maiden years
The watering hole, the cricket, the zampa
Years of dance and romance
Blood dried by the passing wind
Years of dance and romance
Blood dried by the passing wind
On the fence among the stones where your voice sleeps
My guitar cried
Alone this little zamba at night
Wants to give you light
Because it hurts her to hear
That the Neuquén cowboy forgot you
