Landscape of a wild countryside
All is silence and grandiosity
Only the whisper of the birds
Breaks the murmur of the loneliness.
The clouds come casting shadows on
Matacuervos1 who has healed
A big bull that was reprieved
Who had never, ever asked them for life
Matacuervos, Matacuervos
Something made you that way
Y y y
I saw you thrust your horns into
playful crows when you were like that
Matacuervos, Matacuervos,
The arena saw you cry
Ah ah ah
When you were fierce and refused
And didn't want to leave the bullring
~ ~ ~
The moon in the wild countryside
As it illuminates, it is praying.
In veronicas2of gold and silk
Matacuervos is dreaming.
The fog is descending
With Matacuervos it wants to play
That's how they played once
When he was a calf
A calf beyond compare
Matacuervos, Matacuervos
Something made you that way
Y y y
I've seen you thrust your horns
Into playful crows when you were like that
Matacuervos, Matacuervos,
The arena saw you cry
Ah ah ah
When you were fierce and refused
And you didn't want to leave the bullring
Matacuervos, Matacuervos...
1. lit. killer of crows2. Verónicas--A bullfighting pass where the matador lets his cloak trail over the bull's head.