Milonga Pa' Don Segundo

The countryside has turned sad,
the countryside cried all,
the countryside lost a friend
because death took him away.
The ranch became abandoned,
the lantern no longer flickers,
a closed window,
where the sun no longer enters.
The weeds started to approach,
as if to see what happened.
A faded little path,
from the kitchen to the shed,
pokes out from time to time,
as if waiting for the boss.
From the gate to the back,
where the water troughs are,
solitude crawls,
on the paws of a dog.
There's a squeaky windmill,
with more turns than fate,
that surely some neighbor,
opened out of pure gaucho spirit.
The wires of the fence,
loosened their strings,
as if paying tribute,
to the one who took care of them,
even the forest has closed in,
in a deep silence,
because Don Segundo left,
with his tired whistle.
The ranch became abandoned,
the lantern no longer flickers,
a closed window,
where the sun no longer enters.
The weeds started to approach,
as if to see what happened,
but Don Segundo left,
with his mournful whistle.