Peoncito de Estancia
Mercedes Sosa
Ranch Hand
On a tobiano little horse
with a bald forehead,
there goes the ranch hand
crossing through the trail.
Brave little gaucho, mature in hardship,
without knowing why,
tender heart,
lacking warmth he had to grow up.
He fulfills his duty, faithful little bird.
from here to there,
heart of love;
sky of illusion, he goes, comes and goes.
His life is just blossoming:
it will be tough and rough;
he plays at work
and performs like the best.
The little birds of the forest
greet him as he passes by
and the ranch hand dreams:
dreaming of his whistle.
But the path sweetens
with the little fruit of the tala
and some blooming chañar
goes perfuming his soul.
Juice of macachín, camachuí honey,
ubajay fruit, pisingallo, tas
experienced guide,
he knows well where to go.
Rugged living, if there's a suffering:
not a single 'ay' escapes, as he wakes up.
The land raised him
like the ñandubay.
Puppy of a long journey:
how hard is your toil!
Destiny without a complaint
of silence and solitude.
The little birds of the forest
greet him as he passes by
and the ranch hand dreams:
dreaming of his whistle.
