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Singer: Héctor VARELASinger 2: Armando Laborde y Rodolfo LesicaComposer: José Servidio y Luis ServidioAuthor: Francisco García Jiménez

More by Héctor VARELA

Lyrics
Rodando por el llano
va la carreta de lerdo paso;
vieja carreta que aguanta al raso
lluvia de invierno, sol de verano.
Con su apagado pucho en la boca
el carretero de un lado avanza,
y de cuando en cuando toca
el clavo alerta de la picana
la yunta pesada y mansa...
mientras, vibrante, lanza al viento esta canción:

¿Dónde vas, Golondrina?
¿Dónde vas, Picaflor?
Si la ves a mi china
recordale mi amor...
Van mis bueyes al tranco
y mi overo es sobón;
pa' que vuele a mi rancho
te daré el corazón.
Por el llano se aleja
el carrero cantor,
del clavel en la oreja
y del pucho cortón.
La carreta cansina,
del quebrado rumor,
con su buey Golondrina
y su buey Picaflor...

Mi vida es la carreta,
que en tanto bache de mala suerte
va dando tumbos rumbo a la muerte.
Yo, el carretero que no sujeta,
cruzo los pagos de mi destino
junto a la huella de mi carreta
y hago cantando el camino...
¡Tanto he sufrido que soy baqueano!
y al paso del buey maceta
alegre o triste siempre tengo una canción...
English translation
Rolling along the plain
goes the wagon with a slow pace;
old wagon that endures in the open
winter rain, summer sun.
With his dull cigarette in his mouth
the wagoner moves forward on one side
and from time to time he touches
the alert nail of the prod
the heavy and tame yoke...
while, vibrating, he throws this song to the wind:

Where are you going, Golondrina?
Where are you going, Picaflor?
If you see my Chinese girl
remind her of my love...
My oxen go at a walk
and my overo is a brión;
to fly to my ranch...
I'll give you my heart.
On the plains the singing carriage driver
the singing carriage driver,
with the carnation in his ear
and the pucho cortón.
The weary cart,
of the broken rumor,
with its ox Golondrina
and its ox Picaflor...

My life is the cart
that in so many potholes of bad luck
is lurching towards death.
I, the cartwright who does not hold on
I cross the payments of my destiny
by the track of my wagon
and I make the road singing...
I have suffered so much that I am a baqueano!
and at the pace of the potted ox
happy or sad I always have a song...

The Cabeceo