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Solemn and mute the night
On the field dozing
The greatness is increasing
Of the landscape with its brooch
The moon making waste
Of its turquoise blue light
Gives it a crimson tint
To the silent mountain range
And it is every shadow, a watchman
From the pain that lives there
Between that greyish tone
that dominates the horizon
It looks like a magician to the mountain
majestic before space
The austere and straight willow
that surrounds the hillside
From his note planidera
And the rumor of a stream
Mark the notes mournful
With the oh! from a tavern
gaucho soul that sobs
In the branches and in the nests
in the anointed memories
Of loving tenderness
Watching you die mimosas
The birds sing for you
With gurí pouts
The crying sun rises
When over the hill
The wind sings its, oh me!
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