Ritual de Fronteira

And there are those who say
That the work of the countryside is no longer the same
That the shots of the lasso only remain for
The history of the pampas
And are no longer the image of rural life

That the earthy men with serene voices
Are no longer masters on the throne of the horses
That the base of hooves is no longer made of anything
And that the planted land is not worth a penny

Certainly they do not know that there on the border
The rural fiber is the portrait of the homeland
That the taste of bitterness is the same as before
And that the spur's point still tames wild horses

That shots of the lasso are found for fun
On the back, on the horn, or however you want
Mornings with saddled horses
With the broken bunch in the old ritual

That the earthy men with serene voices
Are still the masters in the south of the country
And if they live in the countryside and chat calmly
It's because they have in their souls this happy world

But there are those who say
That the work in the countryside is no longer the same
That the earthy men with serene voices
Are no longer masters and that the planted land
Is not worth a penny