It was at Cañas where I found,
in a ranch between the range,
the tender young woman
I'm singing about.
It was a familiar party,
the birthday of the maiden,
better than a rose
was that florew.
The accordion was rippling
a light maxixa,
and I was feeling like,
of getting into the ball.
I said: May I?
and she said: as you please;
it's your birthday,
I cpuld find.
- You came from the city?,
- I came from Tacuarembó.
- Just for seeing me?
- Your humble servant.
- Will you leave here?
- When the blue rooster sings.
- Will you forget me there?
- May I never see the light.
But life drove me,
through unknown fields,
the oblivion came,
it took everything.
I camped at Cebollatí
and I slept near the border,
the brazilian woman
accompanied me.
Now I want to remember
the brown-eyed maiden,
in that ranch
of white and blue.
And bent near the bonfire,
neither her fire illuminates me,
I live in the dark,
I carry my cross.
- You came from the city?,
- I came from Tacuarembó.
- Just for seeing me?
- Your humble servant.
- Will you leave here?
- When the blue rooster sings.
- Will you forget me there?
- May I never see the light.