Chingolito

Silva, the little native sparrow
As soon as the day breaks
And with his friendly gesture
He quickly appears in the yard
Jumping, always jumping
And it's said in the countryside
That for pecking at a sanctuary
That's how he's been punished

Announcer of storms
Gentle in the countryside
If he whistles with the prayer
Surely the wind will blow
With feathers somewhat gray
But with brown little wings
That's why I wonder if he's
Related to the sparrows

Of course, he doesn't flock
With the ones I mentioned
Besides, he's so defenseless
That he even looks cautious
With feathers somewhat gray
With a painted little neck
And a humble chirp
Jumping from branch to branch
Looking for his food

When Silva is alone
He seems sad and lonely
When he's with his mate
He also wears a crest
He places his nest on the ground
Made of grass among the bushes
After all, if he harms no one
Who will eat his chicks?

Silva, the little native sparrow
And with a whistle he leaves me
The example of a friend who doesn't cry or complain
Keep whistling, little sparrow, and announcing strong winds
That may bring new hopes
That may bring new dreams