Gato Del Mandolín

My Santiago grandpa
Had a mandolin
He played under the tala
When the evening fell

I’d sit next to him in prayer to listen
To the thrush sing with his soulful instrument
My Santiago grandpa, he had a mandolin
The crespin perched above the vineyard kept him company
The coyote's song paused to hear him

My heart leaps with joy when I remember him

A bohemian and a guitar man
He never knew rest
His soul was clean and pure
His heart like a quebracho

With melodies, he filled the yard he loved so much
Songs bloomed that reached his soul
My Santiago grandpa, he had a mandolin
God willing, someday I’ll see him return
I knew how to play under the blooming tala with him

I keep the mandolin as a cherished memory