Milonga Para Don Pedro (Milonga)

Swallow pawn, tough cowboy
From job to job I've known him
And abandoned in those fields
Dirty blankets, straw mattress

The harvester was opening furrows
Leaving potatoes on the surface
And that countryman who gathers and gathers
With another creole pulling together

In the heat of midday
He washes his body with cold water
And when he had barely eaten
The engineer blew the whistle

In the late afternoon, armful of straw
He covered piles in case of frost
And yet poor consolation
There's no joke that he lacks

When the night is already coming
The poor go to the camp
And between tricks, stories, and mates
Hard wine, spicy stew
And when everything was silent
He played milongas to fall asleep