Zamba Del Pescador

(Zamba)

If one night the current takes me
Don't cry willow, don't cry no,
because crying won't tell until when
the fisherman's zamba will be heard.

Then on top of the cliff
your white shadow will become a vision,
in the sad and simple shores
the fisherman's eyes will see.

Little zamba from the edge
of the river that sees me fishing
dawn stars
in water of loneliness.

This zamba arrived with the rising
when the green waters, God,
came down as if singing
the sad song of the fisherman.

Night arrived on the cliff
like a white and wounded flower,
looking for a sad and simple shore
like the life of the fisherman.