Viejo Caa Catí

Deeply rooted in the history of Corrientes,
Fortín cué from the north at the Ava's pass;
I want to remember you, town of my youth
before your streets are buried by the sand.
I long for your rows of orange groves,
your ripe women bending over the cornfield
and your scorching sun that turns the earth into sand,
today burns my blood when I remember you in this song.

From Caa Catí to Mburucuyá
more than fifteen leagues must be crossed.
I go trotting through the palm grove
whistling softly, I will soon arrive.
The brave Santa Lucía bathes your side
its waters watched by the native yacarés
and to the north the changing road of sandy ridges
takes your cliffs where the river rises, Ita Ivaté.
I wish to wake you from your provincial siesta,
to shout to your people not to let you die
and to shed my Correntino blood in your streets
to see if you awaken from your ancient dream, old Caa Catí.