Zamba de Otoño
(Zamba)
Los viejos cobres del monte,
otoño sembrando van,
y en las guitarras del campo,
ya nacen las coplas de la soledad.
Y en las guitarras del campo,
ya nacen las coplas de la soledad.
Emponchan los manantiales,
el viento norte al pasar,
y allá en los huaicos del cerro,
se queman los ecos de aquel carnaval.
Y allá en los huaicos del cerro,
se queman los ecos de aquel carnaval.
Con el lucero del alba,
las cuestas repecharé,
ya están los gallos cantando,
se me hace vidita que no he'i de volver.
Adiós mis cerros queridos,
mis piedras pintadas,
ya no he'i de volver.
Estrellas que me alumbraron,
caminos que caminé,
me han golpiao todos los vientos,
heridos de coplas la vida pasé.
Me han golpiao todos los vientos,
heridos de coplas la vida pasé.
En una cueva del cerro,
escondí mi corazón,
pa' que lo quiero conmigo,
si solo me ha dado trabajo y rigor.
Pa' que lo quiero conmigo,
si solo me ha dado trabajo y rigor.
Con el lucero del alba,
las cuestas repecharé,
ya están los gallos cantando,
se me hace vidita que no he'i de volver.
Adiós mis cerros queridos,
mis piedras pintadas,
ya no he'i de volver.
Autumn Zamba
(Zamba)
The old copper from the hills,
autumn is sowing its seeds,
and in the guitars of the fields,
the songs of loneliness are born.
And in the guitars of the fields,
the songs of loneliness are born.
The springs are covered,
the north wind blows by,
and there in the ravines of the hill,
the echoes of that carnival burn away.
And there in the ravines of the hill,
the echoes of that carnival burn away.
With the morning star,
I'll climb the slopes,
the roosters are already crowing,
it feels like a life I won't return to.
Goodbye my beloved hills,
my painted stones,
I won't be back.
Stars that lit my way,
paths that I walked,
I've been battered by all the winds,
I lived a life wounded by songs.
I've been battered by all the winds,
I lived a life wounded by songs.
In a cave on the hill,
I hid my heart,
what do I want it for,
it's only brought me work and hardship.
What do I want it for,
it's only brought me work and hardship.
With the morning star,
I'll climb the slopes,
the roosters are already crowing,
it feels like a life I won't return to.
Goodbye my beloved hills,
my painted stones,
I won't be back.