Ay Catamarca

Oh Catamarca

Oh Catamarca, mother of song
through these veins your sun burns,
through these veins your sun burns.
Oh Catamarca, how my eyes dreamed
of being able to see you,
to see you...
You were the cradle of my grandparents,
your clear sky saw them reborn,
saw them reborn.
And there my mother, graceful wicker,
dark hair, became a woman,
dark hair, became a woman.
Oh Catamarca, how my eyes dreamed
to be able to see you,
to see you...
Oh Catamarca, oh Catamarca,
I should be from Catamarca,
I should be from Catamarca,
I should be from Catamarca...