La Ariscona (part. Pepe Guerra)

This milonga is a milonga
And it's from the yerbal hills
I was told by the grotas
And the sharpening stones

The rumor of the romerillo
And the wind in the carob tree
And the sly look
Of the wild animal

It seems to me that I hear it
A chestnut horse passing by
The rider whistles
And it's the Indian baladán

Fields of the salamanca
Road to Batoví!
There, the land is lonely
When going out to the ruyín

On the Colorado hill
The wind whistles as it passes
And the alert-eyed hare
Listens from among the chilcal

On the rocks, the lizards
Start to ponder
About time and silence
In the most natural way

In the gestures of the people
And in the way of speaking
In the mate that is offered
It's not heard but it's there

And there at Alpirio Núñez's place
Very close to the lilí
With accordion and guitar
I danced until dawn

And one morning it happened
That I saddled my pigeon
And I brought her with me
And I didn't go to return her

And I brought her with me
And I didn't go to return her
And I didn't go to return her
And I didn't go to return her