La Gorostiaguista

On the cross of a dagger
Don Manuel Gorostiaga
Has sworn, fighting, to conquer and die
Risking his life to triumph

The Sun trembles, upon kissing
The edge of the bathing place
Why whistling to the wind, and facing as he passes by
Death turns into a dance, comes to dance

In the voice a singing
Of the soul from Santiago del Estero
And the Gorostiaguista
Will intertwine

Turned into song in the verses
While playing the guitar
And the Gorostiaguista
Will intertwine
Turned into song while playing the guitar

In fighting relentlessly
The saltpeter becomes tears
The whisper of the grass in the carob tree grove
The strumming and the drums resounding

In the light it always is
Behind the nightfall
This zamba whistling memories that go
Stringing necklaces of sunset