Por el camino

To the screeching of the rolling of the wagon
and that awaken the guardian chajá,
the boyero's soul in sorrow goes
heading for the fields through the canyon.
And to the sleepy sonorous sound of his whistle
with which he tries to revive the ox,
leagues and leagues he swallows in his rumination
the yunta yaguaré.

He is in no hurry to arrive,
as his song says:
that there are no distances to fatigue
the oxen of illusion.
Whoever says that there is no desire
Let him ask absence.'
And the poor man follows with his cart
the track of the canyon.

But there is nothing left of the ranch
that he left six months ago when he left.
Like a pampero he took everything with him
the bad streak of the cruel abseneia.
And to the sleepy tune of his song,
with which he would like to revive his faith,
he pulls again the old cart
the yunta yaguaré.

He is in no hurry to run
as his song says
that there is no swamp to stop
the chariot of the heart.
Bad wind is the wind of absence
when it blows in the querencia.'
And the poor man follows with his cart
the track of the canyon.