Tardecitas Santiagueñas

How to forget the evenings of my Santiago, how to forget
Sipping mate and playing guitar to sing
How to forget the friends from those times, how to forget
If today the thorn of nostalgia makes me bleed.

Beloved land, how I adore you
The farther I am, the more I miss you
Dreaming of the joy of being able to return one day
Time goes by and every end of the year
I am so far from my Santiago
Just like a child without bread and shelter, I know how to cry.