Rio De Los Pájaros

Uruguay is not a river
It's a blue sky traveling
Painter of clouds on the way
With a taste of rural honeys

The loves of the coast
Are loves without destiny
Water hyacinth of hope
That the river takes away

Chua, chua, chua ha ha ha
Don't sing anymore, little turtledove
The ceibo tree cries blood

Little washerwoman
Little heron of the coast
Roll up your skirt
Start washing the clothes

Your mother cooks jerky
Your father went up the river
And you stayed alone
Washing clothes on the shore

Fishing canoe
Hold on during the storm
If my arms don't tire
Rowing, I will get you out

Curly-haired little boy
Eyes like a caiman
Chirping belly
Coffee-colored back