To the Fuentes brothers and to Rico Moreira,
to Coco Brun and to Charquero, to don Gregorio and to Chilo,
to Riaño and to Moriño,
to the Negro Bruno, to doña María and to Capincho Fernández,
and to all the people who wanted a new path to go to their fields,
but don't need a new path to reach to my memory.
Look how pretty are the fields
of the Fifth section,
the mounts are like mothers, of course!
and even the wind sings.
Strong stands Isla Patrulla
milestone of tradition
where the sun for drinking mate, of course!
they say it's early rising
The people doesn't show
it's friendship just like that;
they have the affection hidden, of course!
like the water of the place.
They want to keep alive
the flame of their bonfire
and even the poorest house, of course!
has its blooming garden.
And in the old trees
and by the main street,
having fun in memories, of course!
an old air remined.
Small homeland, Isla Patrulla,
unsociable, tenacious corner
homeland of wide-brimmed hats, of course!
wide-brimmed and laid back
Small homeland, Isla Patrulla,
someday I'll return,
to find the old places
there must be a path
To find the old places, of course!
there must be a path