Sosiego en la noche

On the soft bed that silence spreads,
the hours lay their grave weariness.
And the night sleeps, rocked by the wind
that passes by, pouring its load of aromas.
At times, mixed with the murmur of the troops
that crosses longing for the softness of sleep,
the voice of the road is heard very deep
beating in the cry of the troopers.

Huija... oh... oh... oh...!
Cracking of hooves, ringing of cowbells,
rumor of the hooves beating on the ground,
with a dull sound that engulfs the silence.
Landscape of stars, smell of pennyroyal,
and there where the night cuts the path,
the shadows confuse the pampa and the sky.

Fulfilling the tropero's eagerness to reach the horizon
he hammocks himself in the soft swaying of the march.
And sunk in the gentle slumber of the night,
his eyes fall asleep looking for distance.
Breaking the thick cotton of the shadows
the troop goes sluggishly disturbing the peace.
At times the silence is pierced by the deep song of the road
the deep song of the road that the troop throws.
Witch... oh... oh... oh...!