A Pura Ushuta
Los Hermanos Toledo
To Pure Ushuta
I love to head out to the hills
To sing right by the river
With a chalchalero to back me up,
The cicadas join in too.
A Tucuman chacarera plays
For the drink in my hand,
Pounded out by a drum
From the band in Santiago.
An icancho's rehearsing
The tune that I sing,
Not even the devil can stop
The rhythm that the glass brings.
Chacarera... Chacarera carries all my tears,
Let the drum never stop
If the river gives me its song.
A little copla is coming
Brought by January's heat,
It pulses like a vine
In my soul of a guitar man.
This mota chacarera
Is blooming in my guitar,
So the wind can take it
To the tent in Simoca.
My ushutas are feverish
When I drink some purple stuff,
Brushing the dirt away
With the chuncas to the side.
Chacarera... Chacarera carries all my tears,
Let the drum never stop
If the river gives me its song.
