When the intractable candle of my heart
no longer gives light:
return to my land,
take my ballads
and sing them...
Let my hill know
how I have felt it, almost with sorrow,
sowing my verses there, in the pass.
Tell it that.
Sowing my verses there, in the pass.
Tell it that.
May all of the Puna1
vibrate with the echo of each song.
Let someone sing them, standing with their face to the skies,
.. but let it be you!
Let someone sing them, standing with their face to the skies,
.. but let it be you!
I want to give to the wind
a poncho of notes fringed by sunshine,
may it, wrapped up in my zambas2, whistle them and dance them.
Ask it to.
May it, wrapped up in my zambas, whistle them and dance them.
Ask it to!
If you become sad,
remember that I am in the bewitched night.
And if my song is lost in the dark;
it will endure in you!
And if my song is lost in the dark;
it will endure in you!
May all of the Puna1
vibrate with the echo
of each song.
Let someone sing them, standing with their face to the skies,
but let it be you!
Let someone sing them, standing with their face to the skies,
but let it be you!
1. a. b. Uplands in S. America, close to the Andes2. Argentine mouth-music for dancing