Violín Del Monte

Violinist of the mountains
Musician of our countryside
Your life is slipping away
Among zambas and memories

The frayed bow
Conjugates all times
And cries all the tears
Of hope and dream

With your three-string violin
In summer and winter
You keep playing and playing
Until the evening star appears

Your fortune is in friendship
You don't know what money is
The feelings that inspire you
Are beyond time

When carnival comes
You cross mountains and fields
And go out seeking parties
With your whistling lure

With your worn poncho
You cover your zamba violin
Just like a sleeping child
You take care of your instrument

Violinist of the mountains
Musician of our countryside

And so you spend the hours
Between dance and foot stomping
And occasionally you play
The dance of your memories

Then the evening brings you
The light of some dark eyes
That promised to return
And got lost far away

Violinist of the fields
Humble musician of the hill
How your violin cries
Eternalized in the wind