El Cosechero
Ramón Ayala Y Sus Bravos Del Norte
The Cotton Picker
The old river flows
Crossing the dawn
Like a big water lily
It carries the raft in its wild sway
Heading to the harvest, I’ll be a cotton picker
And among white flakes, I’ll sing my hope
With calloused hands, I’ll leave in the cotton
My heart
The land of Chaco, rugged and wild
Will ignite in my blood with a deep sapucay
And in the furrow, my hat under the sun
A beacon of light
Cotton that’s leaving, that’s leaving, that’s leaving
Soft silver soaked in moonlight and sweat
A little house drunk on dreams and love
That’s what I want
Cotton that’s leaving, that’s leaving, that’s leaving
Soft silver soaked in moonlight and sweat
A little house drunk on dreams and love
That’s what I want
From Corrientes, I come
Barranquera is already in sight
And on the shore, an accordion
Moans its slow chamamé
Heading to the harvest, I’ll be a cotton picker
And among white flakes, I’ll sing my hope
With calloused hands, I’ll leave in the cotton
My heart
The land of Chaco, rugged and wild
Will ignite in my blood with a deep sapucay
And in the furrow, my hat under the sun
A beacon of light
Cotton that’s leaving, that’s leaving, that’s leaving
Soft silver soaked in moonlight and sweat
A little house drunk on dreams and love
That’s what I want
Cotton that’s leaving, that’s leaving, that’s leaving
Soft silver soaked in moonlight and sweat
A little house drunk on dreams and love
That’s what I want
I want that
I want that
