A Don Ata

On the Indian's path
And the spirit of Don Ata
Riding on his chestnut horse
The vidala saw him pass
The mountain breeze
The valley flowers
Tangle in his soul
Oh, oh, oh, to Don Ata

A Tucuman moon
That lights up stone and road
And next to the poor girl
Mountains and rivers weep for him
Through Tafí del Valle
Fields of Acheral
Also through Banda and Lules
And even Amaichá

The Santiago girl
To warm him from the cold
Knits a pampa poncho
For the wandering payador
Out there in Barrancas
And in Salavina
The humble with the vidala
Seeks him a refuge

There goes Don Atahualpa
On the roads of the world
For a verse, for a lance
Marking all four directions
May God bless him
And keep him in glory
For all the beautiful memories
And for his memory

A lonely muleteer
Passed through Altamirano
With a nostalgic whistle
In search of his brothers
Driving his sorrows
For not finding him
He slowly walked away
From the Entre Ríos land

The day is clearing
By the Colorado hill
And at the corners of Churqui
A lightning bolt strikes down
The yearning awakens
In Gulchaqueña
San Francisco del Chañar
And also Santa Elena

A breeze from Buenos Aires
Gave him its wind song
And he fell asleep in a track
In a timeless style
Out there in Pergamino
Maybe Santa Rosa
Weeps for him all over La Pampa
In a bordona

There goes Don Atahualpa
On the roads of the world
For a verse, for a lance
Marking all four directions
May God bless him
And keep him in glory
For all the beautiful memories
And for his memory