Poetry by:

Alberto Arvelo Torrealba

GLOSSARY TO THE SONGBOOK

Oh wow, buddy!
I can't help it
that I end up saying in verse
what I started to talk about

1 3
The bare and fixed path A curse on the dark step
without a mountain eyebrow that the clean path cuts me,
the sunny horizon even if and for you what does it matter
he put a ring on the field. let the river get good-looking!
Partner, do not be distressed, Let the star rise dimly
drink water, I will wait for you, and the sandy area shines adverse:
but tell me first I give you my smooth world
with the withered accent because it is from Llanera Boga
how much thirst this cry has: I started fighting on a rope.
Oh wow, buddy! that I end up saying in verse.

2 4
I learned in abyssal land Because it came to me from afar
lesson that had no respite: what stretches and turns blue,
lying to the tongues what the song modulates
with the whistle and the tune. when the road is alone;
I left a planted paddle. what Florentino dreamed
banks of the saladar when the singing left him:
and then I saw her pass away; What will remain of you for me
but this eagerness that blows in me the pure flower of your absence,
to feel your soul in the ballad like in the silent pampa
I can't help it. what I started to talk about.
 Little red carnation
that which fell from the bush
all covered in dew
How I would take you!

5 7
The dawn is drowning You don't want me to stay up all night.
in the swamps of the hato. with little onions and a net.
The dawn, howler monkey, Follow me when I leave
comes without a sting or a rope. instead of so much reproach.
Smokes are becoming popular You will feel the night run
dreams of brewed coffee. through my verse, like a river,
He tells stories to the cattle. and the wind will be gloomy
early riser —nest of their abandonment—
and sings the milker: straw from your light hair
little red carnation... all covered in dew.

6 8
If you want a good game He/She puts his/her contrite stroke

when we play cards, the wing over the desert.

on the shores of the Caipe changes in 'Mata 'e Muerto'
I have a quilt and sand; like thinking about his scream.
but don't scratch my sorrow Wilted chest banks
with jealousy from Boconó. the mirage looked,
She followed her luck. and that's why he painted them
and I continued with my luck: pools of sweet reflections.
For something I am a strong lemon water so deep and so far,
that from the bush fell. How I would grab you!
 The stars in the drain,
the moon in the reeds:
sweet cane mouth
Who could kiss you!

9 11
Like pure water you live, Thatch of the hut,
crystal clear and foamless: that is grinding and singing,
yesterday I passed through the mist: who listens to you, is crossing,
and I saw. the sun in your cisterns. sugarcane field with dew,
Today through bitter declines, my dog ran away,
with the plague in my herd, let your voice sweeten me,
I walk my sullen mourning; let my longing pulse,
and from a bend I look, while you grind the reeds,
what is your name in my sigh who will suck your honey,
the lights in the pipe. sweet cane mouth.

10 12
Clear night, good witness Savanna of dry stems,
for the joropo and the cast; someone taught you to love
the thorn of romance in the mouth of your wife,
the moonlit coat pricks you. on the backs of your horses.
Come girl with me While the mayos sprout
through the sleeping Arenal, there's love left for a song:
let's see from the real step lofty land like the sea,
with what serene tenderness cardo without irrigation and without pruning,

he started to stamp the sand about all the bitterness

the moon in the reeds. Who could kiss you!
 I am scared of myself.
when I lift the sound,
because I took advantage of myself
and master of my free will.

13
Tenth of absent love 15
the herdsman's wind stutters. In the corner of the Bad Step,
The night of May looks where footsteps walk without traces
her clear cross on the forehead. I stumbled upon the stars
I drank your fiery juice drinking in the big lagoon,
little sisters of the yaguaso,
Brave Cañedo field,
land of yearning and I cannot, that in Juncal dreams hidden;
farewell route and who knows. and since I am just a burden
When this pain is over through solitary sands,
I am scared of myself. I start to sing my sorrows
why I fell off the faculty.
14
On my unbridled chestnut, 16
where the echo astonishes no one You who shaped me firmly
you are scaring my shadow the faith where I take refuge
and you cried for me in silence,
paths of another's herd.
The straw with the dew the night I had to leave,
in case you want to write to me
Rocío began to dream,
I entrust you with my address:
and the old wild Llano
and the memories I carry in the land of the corrío,
they taste like bitter cedar with the best leadership,
when I raise the ring captain of this bitterness
and master of my will.
 Dark and gloomy night
turn on your little light
that I have the heart
deeper than your paths

17 19
The shadow spread its bandages So dark, Chipolita,
about the blue current. with my four and you so far away!
They only curl the Arauca The nostalgia of your silences
the bongos of legends. against the cedar it beats for me.
My colt on the reins Through this withered land
cross the sandy shore, they are water and thirst the emotion
and when the sky is pink and if I am captive in my dream
closes its last slit, your sweet darling burden,
you open your black blanket Chipolita, that is the bitter
dark and gloomy night. that I have the heart.

18 20
Fierce storytelling night Night that teaches the soul
and the fright at the strike of one: this tender and masculine longing;
tormented and moonless Big bird that throws a chunk,
you gave it to the songbook. Santos Luzardo who dreams.
Night of the pechero tone Breeze rope of Apurímac
that cradles its cry in the soul, linked our destinations;
without your contrite kiss and in my wandering paths,
my chest unbuttons, night, I find you so mine,
about the perhaps of my path what are my plains inside
light your little light. deeper than your paths.
 Sabanero little tree
I come to ask you
if when she comes to me
it was you who saw me pass by.

21 23
He opens his dreams to the open air I know the longing of the rush
the solitude without a cry. when night falls
Suck the wilted field cross the pain of this land
the sweet flower of sunset. like a gloomy cowboy.
You sorrowful, in the step I know the dream of the dew
and the suffering of the cristofué,
-pure sandy beach- of the estuary,
more with everything I know
dreaming of the May air,
how much you will have of sorrows the bitterness stretches me
that you no longer have any leaves left when the singer sighs:
little savanna tree! if when she left me...

22 24
The couplet that greets you Little tree with fine leaves,
and in your silence it tears apart nest of pure sorrows,
since you no longer have my sheets
he put a touch of guitar
between your bare branch. the sun kisses the thorns.
Madrinero without godmothers
My four in your rough sorrow
there is a sound that makes one cry, I pass by with my singing
and you in your serious silence
and that's why in my singing,
while the day dies, you become drier and sadder.
for her, who doesn't even love me, Little tree, you saw her,
I come to ask you. you saw me pass by.
 Down the river flows,
the wind runs up
Where are your eyes going?
they take my thoughts
25 27
A rower hit bites Your eyes and the clear sky
the silence and the landscape. they fill the water a thousand times.
On a leg of the journey Shine among mother-of-pearl of fish
the Masparro gets lost on me. the cup of the caracara.
On the greenest path But, what a grim abandonment
I am walking the darkest path. after the beach brooms:
Pattern of sturdy free will there they go sad and limping
that goes and is not banished, the roads grumbling,
between my verse and the ground, without people, many walking
Down runs the river. where are your eyes going.

26 28
I put myself to mending dreams My old man used to tell me
and I think for a moment the voice as if in abandonment:
if I will not be a wandering scream boy sings that tune
about the swamp and the bongo. brave sand juice.
Go see if my complaint is fair. I have been since that day
to strengthen my breath, his pure zeal in my accent.
that yesterday was a slow recovery Mud of the thirsty well,
the pure rowing brought me, league where one faints
and today how I go downstream he never from the ah malaya!
Upwards the wind blows. They take my thought.
 Soul Tree,
Boquerón de Banco Largo.
You can now say:
Here slept Cantaclaro

29 31
With the whistle and the peck A clear sandpaper memory
of the swooping breeze the silver in which I delight:
the blonde and dark evening for every bitter dispute
She entered the corral quietly. she was sending me the ring.
The night, tired mare, My horse and my blanket
about the tremola banks they still know the way and the time.
the mane is black and the tail; Unlucky is he who falls in love.
and in its silence it is astonished when they really kill him.
your ghost heart, I told you not to say.
Forest of the Lonely Soul. you can say now.

30 32
Field of serene emotion: Old wine glass plant
if in your stillness everything is journey where the sun crumbles,
What light will your landscape have through your ceibos crosses
when this sorrow is eased! shadow of ominous advice.
The black heron crossed Refuge of wings and complaints
about the lethargic marsh what do you harbor in sweet refuge
and when that bitter fate the pain of the taro-taro,
fell upon your retreats, under your peace I take refuge
Alas, it was your sighs, and I am dreaming in silence:
Boquerón of Banco Largo. Here Cantaclaro slept
 When I think that you don't love me,
when I start to think,
the verses are coming out for me
like spring water.
33 35
All the cute things of the valley The four-day moon
bloomed flower in your smile. It casts a shadow of two yards.
The palm full of breeze Voices clear and bright
he came to the town in your size. the distances warn.
I found you in the street yesterday: I remember my baquías
How you were and how you are! through those smooth worlds;
Through dawns and sunsets and as in adverse days
My bongo rocked your dreams. I was a fall matapalo,
Today I don't even feel sad today for a fatal sprout
Upon thinking that you don't love me. The verses are coming to me.

34 36
On my gray horse Verses of the azure dream
what I bought with royal nobles in the reddish dawn,
I remembered in the brush. Honda voice of how one is
your verse, Pedro Sotillo. when does man learn in the
I knelt before its simple bitterness Plain;
the thorn of your singing. scream of the Venezuelan
Today I send greetings to you. who loves their good and their bad,
from the immense meadow its palm and its marsh;
where my thoughts wander, a blow that rejoices and tears apart
when I start to think. flowing from the guitar
like spring water.
 The yaguaso duck sings
the lagoon dried up.
The brown heron says:
Now I'm really dying.

37 39
I don't want pesky wire. Telling the stars
in my desolate world. to the millionaire night
If the livestock gets scattered. solitary crossing
I will see if I gather him. the song through the marshes.
When this earth moves as one, The savanna roads
league and league are the step. they go like a restless soul.
Beyond the lagoon The moon fakes in the sand
follow the open infinity: the wake of a canoe:
crying so much desert How bad the world is without water!
sings the yaguaso duck. says the brown heron.

38 40
I have a shame to write to you Don't ask me for the key
with the things I am seeing. from my scattered songs;
The pawns are saying if I know very well that in verses
that you no longer want to come. The woman is the one who knows.
That's why I sent to tell you But if you stay serious with me,
what the pipe sighed: if your mother sent you
when the heron gleaned to tell me no,
the sky was the withered water; I with life made a bramble
when the gossip left I will sing like the heron;
the lagoon dried up. Now I'm really dying.
 Oh, may there be a little trot!
that will never end!
Ah, cursed be the one who finds it.
that which nobody seeks!
41 43
Dawn of blonde appearances All my dreams without a cradle
his red cane blossomed it became a verse upon leaving you
and the chestnut lit it for me and it ignited my passion for art
spikes on the backs. jasmine of goodbye with the moon.
Horse that took lead bullets I struck my bad luck
under the whip of a scream: through the silent and clear land.
if your helmet is written And today, pure thirst, to the face
rhythm of brave little girls, soles of hard reflections,
for these lonely peaks water from your eyes far away
Ah, let's take a little trot! Oh, cursed be the one who finds!

42 44
I don't know if he/she strums anymore. You, the one from the prominent neighborhood

my voice native pains why do you look at me when I leave

or if they are the evils of love as if it were worth something
those who shape the idea. to have a reputation as a songwriter,
When the flower blooms in the bush let the morning sun
to the truncated palm about the thistles shine,
when the estuary becomes muddy, and let the star translate
this evil that tears us apart the honda faith of the walker
Who would have believed it, guitar! what was found in the drifting sand
that will never end. that which nobody seeks.
 I have mentioned you four times
and you have not answered any.
Who tells me to go looking
what I haven't lost!

45 47
I don't know what is hidden. For the plan without a corozo
in your wonderful gaze they forge my dreams in the forge
that today you stayed looking at me like the little water bugs
like through a crack. when the well dries up.
For not wearing your ring To the handsome tenant
You are waiting for me reluctantly. I ran into him/her sighing.
Have you hexed me? I found everyone:
so that my love lasts for you, paraulata, cristofué...
that in the solitude of Apure I just didn't find myself.
I have mentioned you four times. Who told me to go searching!

46 48
That's why I want to know Banishment of my exile
—longing for my stubbornness— The four points fall asleep.
if you loved me a long time ago It seems that they go together over there.

or you start to love me, Florentino and Martín Fierro...

Oh if you loved me yesterday Like taming a confinement
and today you only want my forgetfulness, I hear its song stretched out.
or if you have never loved me. Buddy, lend me your ear:
Wanting truths together I come from the Llano below
I wanted to ask four questions. and I bring in my royal sound
and you haven't answered any. what I haven't lost.
 Don't forget this postcard:
on horseback, Margarita.
Even though it is called Antillano
No one takes it away from the Llano.

49 51
The sun in a llanero show off Through those cowboy territories
it gives you its warmth and its brightness. from Ortiz to Corozo Pando,
On your yellow horse the night comes tuning
you command in chief the afternoon. the fours and the stars.
Chipolita, God protect you, After the homemade thorns,
alone through the thicket, like a distant joropo,
like the moon in the grass the voice of the dry land is heard:
kissing all the greens. that he/she gives me my garment
Even if you never remember me jaguars of their flatlands,
Don't forget this postcard. even though it is called Antillano.

50 52
They shuffle their red cards That's the pure canyon
the scattered sunsets. he/she talks to the ravine,
I pay a century of my verses and in the solitude of the white
a second from your eyes. the shrub whispers,
Dreaming in these stubbles and in the darkest night
He who loses takes revenge. the fierce bull honks,
Endless thirsts and in the clear morning
they left —among palm trees— the so-called sighs it:
your eyes and my songs your grace of palmasola
on horseback, Margarita. no one takes it away from the Llano.
 The cowboys met each other.
horses dead from the sun:
Brother, oh lonely land!
Oh life is tough, brother!

53 55
About the land without a pipe They bend the hip of the reins.
to your palm that I sighed dreams of burning and summer.
the one on a light-colored horse, Men, before the barren land
the other in old chestnut they look like old friends.
the greeting and the flock They look so far away
turned thirsty from a thousand paths— the eaves and the bandola,
Through the dismal swamps the moriche and the soisola!
where illusion deceives, With a voice that stretches desire
Switching the Cajón of Arauca Santos Luzardo sighs:
the cowboys clashed. Brother, oh lonely land!

54 56
They cross the silent land His mourning and his litany
that the Catire threw into History far away, it puts the taro-taro.
the time he linked to Glory Horizon in helplessness,
and the anger towards his people. handsome sun, wild straw.
It goes from two and two in pain The day breaks impassively
about the wilted stems; in a distant mirage,
the hearts, vassals and with its arcane pain,
from the relentless distance, with a voice that delights in the jungle,
the eyes, wells of tongues, he answers Arturo Cova:
dead from the sun, the horses. Ah, life is really hard, brother!
 Florentino and the Devil
I
THE CHALLENGE
The verse-maker Florentino when with gloomy trot
through the wide embankment hey a rider behind him.
Paths of Despair
descend with a blow of six. You can see the blanket on her.
black the horse too;
Pointer in solitude under the black guama hair
that mourn the flames of yesterday, The face cannot be seen.
wandering earth sledgehammer He/she goes around singing a couplet.
it is born under the steed. without the gaze returning:
Blind eye the big lagoon
without heron, reed, or gray, —Friend, just in case you dare,
hard buried basin wait for me in Santa Inés,
where the helmet stumbles. that I am going to look for it
The spiny squalids to sing with you.
they strip their yellowness,
the cicadas bewilder Bad shadow of fear
the gray sunset. crosses over the embankment.
It seems that for the world Cowboys from afar
the palm without a sway. they accompany her in a crowd;
they hide it and erase it
The solitary songster straws of the dusk.
he lives his serious pride
to walk through the wasteland Florentino taciturn
like someone treads a garden. take the bank across.
In the Las Ánimas channel Pointer in solitude
he is dead from thirst. that mourn the flames of yesterday
and on the legs of the chestnut it seems like he/she is dreaming
the clear view of the jagüey. with the sheet on the forehead.
In a long and deep verse
The drinking horn pulls, the faithful tone is stretched:
in water you hear it fall;
when he is lifting it up Savannah, savannah, land
the feet get splashed, what makes you sweat and want,
but of the empty horn stop with so much direction,
he/she could not drink a drop. with water and dying of thirst,
Throw it again and splash. one with my soul in solitude,
the clear water again, one with God in faith;
but only sand in his eyes on your bare chest
in the murky background they come. I stand up to reply:
separate the gloomy singer
Breath of burning the sigh, that I comply with my law
the palfrey walks flat and how I sang with everyone
gaze and direction the storyteller I have to sing with him.
puts for your hut,
 II
The rivalry

Night of fierce downpour anxieties that tread with the left foot,
through the mournful plain, when the golden peak Indian
and lit chipolas with its song it greets him.
that the peon's ranch lights up.
Inside the basket sounds, THE DEVIL
outside the rain is beating; Catire takes away worries
vein in cedar heart answer me this question:
the staff emanates tenderness; Which is the rooster that always
not far away the river appears has an advantage in the fight
dirty savannah chest; and even if they hit him in the beak
beyond wandering choirs, Do you have reliable bites?
black fury wind,
and while she weaves the joropo FLORENTINO
bitter bandoliers It has a guaranteed bite
the lightning to the lone palm the rooster that rebounds
he/she points out specific things. and it never gets in the way,
well, if it throws from the foot,

Suddenly a man at the door: better if it stings in the pen.

serious posture individual,
black eyes, black hair,
warm wrinkle front, THE DEVIL
gleaming guama hair Better to sting in the pen.
that shines with the lantern. If you know so much about everything

say what the republic is

A handsome gust of wind where the treasure is loot
she makes the blouse fly, without any difficulty.
and one and a half can be seen
of dagger at the waist. Florentino
He enters quietly and lies down. Without any difficulty,
to the side of music. the beehive in the papaya
Hey, okay, that's the Devil. what is soft pulp wood?
The voice crosses through the room. he who does not carry a machete
Look at how he arrived take the honey with your nails.
with so much neighborhood and rain,
ironed and dry the clothes, THE DEVIL
without a blanket or saddle. Take the honey out with your nails.
They say it happened early, Answer me the third one
like someone coming from Nutrias, if you answered the second,
with a dark bongo player and say if he/she wandered so much
through the path of the Witches. savannah without sun or moon
who is the one that drinks sand
Florentino is whistling in the darkest night.
sounds of old bravery
and with his right hand he takes flight
 FLORENTINO and the judgment becomes clear to me.
In the darkest night I am like the thorny plant.
I don't want to hide my shadow that in the flowering savanna:
I am not scared of hers. I give fragrance to those who pass by.
The bad thing is not the throw. and thorn that shakes me.
but who does not refute it:
you have to drink sand THE DEVIL
the one who never drinks water. Thorn that shakes me.
I do not envy the thornbush.
THE DEVIL the fineries that it boasts:
He who never drinks water. when the candle passes
This way anyone can respond the leg becomes black.
mixing the question. With planting and wing noise
If you know your reason The fight is not charged.
and if not, do not give any: Go ahead and position yourself in front

Who mitigates the bitter fire so that in the dark I can see me.
in a pure sand pit,
who kills thirst without water FLORENTINO
in deep solitude? So that he sees me in the dark.
Friend, don't get too close.
Florentino that the bug gets away from him.
In the deep solitude Back and forth is the same
the chest of the medanal, for the one who doesn't carry, it doesn't matter.
the romance that cradles him, The one who is behind sees ahead
the advice that leads him into abyss, and the one in front turns around.
the soul that crosses him,
the night that covers him, THE DEVIL
the breath that desnudes him, The one who goes ahead turns around
the palm that guards it, to contemplate what rises
the star that lights it up. erasing what is green:
What guilt do I have, gentlemen? in winter the swamp,
If the one who is looking for me finds me? in summer the humidity.
I like to sing outdoors
THE DEVIL At night when it breezes
If the one who is looking for me finds me because this is how it is known
the scare is downloaded. who better counters.
It's a quarter to one.
when the candle flickers, FLORENTINO
when the aimless fright Who counterpoints better
with his pain he languished, he makes his deals during the day
when Florentino is silent and works by task.
because the idea slips away from him/her, Grab that top on your nail
when the little duck sings, let's see if taratatea!
when the rooster crows. As if I were an owl
in the village bell tower
FLORENTINO to sing in the dark
When the rooster crows frequently with this ugly night.
my throat gets refined
 THE DEVIL paragraphs of the hopscotch
With this ugly night I saw with the dark night
a donkey thinks one thing the May Cross in the sky.
and another the one that drives it above.
Oh, fair-haired Florentino! THE DEVIL
listen to whoever warns you: The Cross of May in the sky.
give a break to stubbornness Shadows do not scare me.
so that he/she takes and calms down I can't sleep even with lights on.
if you don't want me to fail you with the sun I am a hawk
the voice when it is condemned. and in the darkness, the owl,
family of courser
FLORENTINO I sing better when I fly;
The voice when it is condemned. also like the guabina
While the cuatro tunes me If he grabs me, I'll skin him.
and the maraca resonates I am also a fat caiman.
there is no spur that can hurry me that in the mouth of the pipe I see it.
neither muzzle that suffocates me,
nor who forces me to drink FLORENTINO
in a lid that someone else fills. What I see at the mouth of the pipe.
Singer and player of coplas I remembered that run.
its fair advantage is: that my grandfather taught me:
plays whenever he feels like it, Watching over the one who never passes
sings when it suits him. the lively one was left dumbfounded,
for the caiman the harpoon
THE DEVIL to bait the hook,
Sings when it suits him. short spade that has a handle
If your destiny is to persist Do not run horseback.
even if it rains and even if it thunders What do you dry your face with?
I am going to participate, Who doesn't carry a handkerchief?
friend, that in this duel Why does he/she clean the paws?
I am not here to offer him/her. Who is going to sleep on the floor?
honey from Arica with doughnut.
If it becomes malicious THE DEVIL
I am not surprised by his mistrust, The one who is going to sleep on the floor
that which macagua bit pick up the oil on the ground
vine for the hair. if you have a light sleep
They never kill him while he's asleep.

FLORENTINO The roosters are crowing,

Twine for the hair. listen to their songs,
Against a cross turn the dogs are howling,
I don’t even grind my chicken. Remember what was agreed.
Among singers I sing, Vultures of Barrosa
I rebel among men, from the cork oak of the Cold
I have more than enough among women. I ask for congratulations, gentlemen.

muslin and velvet, that Florentino is mine now.

when one says goodbye to me
To another, I ask for comfort. FLORENTINO
Since when I was flying That Florentino is mine.
Ñéngueres from Banco Seco! FLORENTINO
Taro-taros of the Pionío! That hurts and gives chills...
If you say that I am yours Give me space to think.
Have I sold myself? and give me free rein
if I sold it to me, pay me teach the one who does not know
because I trust no one. a finishing uh race.
I am not a rancher. Cimarrones must be seen,
that the river brings the water, I don't argue with fools;
I am not a silly bird dagger, take it out if you want
for heating up a child. Let's see if I can replace mine.
It hurts what was lost
THE DEVIL when one has not defended oneself.
It's heating up a bit.
I don't know if it's a silly bird. THE DEVIL
but it goes for a spin When it has not been defended.
with the fatigue of rowing what was lost doesn't matter
in the poorly executed blow; if the defeated is standing.
and on the edge of silence because the indomitable pride
the size will be tied is worth more than the lost good.
when I told to stop That's why I'm taking it.
the thunder and the challenge. with nothing for the sake of it
in a bongo of twenty yards
FLORENTINO that has a gloomy blow.
The thunder and the challenge. And I change his foot again
I like to listen to the thunder let's see if he finds the shortcut.
even if it leaves me stunned,
I like to run in the downpour. FLORENTINO
if the wind carries thunder. Let's see if he hits the shortcut.
Eagle over the burn, When they fight, I like it.
challenge of the brave bull. because I also fight.
When those voices call me Vultures of Barrosa
I have always replied to them. from the cork oak grove below:
How can you silence me Now you will see, gentlemen,
newly dressed singer! "To hell with hard work."

THE DEVIL THE DEVIL

Recently dressed coplero, Go to hell, it’s hard work.
hand to hand and chest to chest Does not lie to the one who does not know

and stoking my spirit don't pretend that carelessness,

with the fire of romance look that for this land
what is the gift of my lordship. it's not the first time I'm traveling,
Lightning illuminated me. and here the gentlemen know
from the burning horizon that when the tip fit
hunting wild boars to the same little lemon
and bleeding the surrendered ones I suck it up piece by piece.
with the tip of my dagger
it hurts and gives chills. FLORENTINO
I suck it leaf by leaf.
You who raise the crest that no sailor commands
and I lower it. where the captain commands.
Don't be frightened, comrades,
let me catch it, THE DEVIL
let him stop his luck, Where the captain commands
I will know if I shuffle it; you are a fallen candle,
let him release the bongo I am proud, I am of the sea.
so that it catches water below; Ash will be his voice,
before God dawns the lingering effort of the dead
he who brought it takes it away; It will be his last trace
the fine horse, shipwrecked on the sandbank,
the donkey backs up. smoke will be their paths,
Who has seen dorodoro stone their dreams will be,
singing with a jay! carbon will be your memory,
If the consonant changed me the black in eternity,
I can change it for you. so that he/she does not respond to me
do not resist me anymore.
THE DEVIL Captain of the Darkness
I can change it for you. it's who comes to look for him.
The graves and the sharp ones
I feel the same way, FLORENTINO
because I threw my destiny He is the one who comes to look for him.
about the never and the ever. Nice to meet you
Oh! blonde Florentino, I have Mr. Satan.
chest singer cabal Vultures of Barrosa
how sinister the path they leave the Cork Oak
that will never go back, that the Devil was taken by the day
without forward, without above, wanting to run me over.
without a shore and without a back. Get me out of here with God
They are no longer worth their descent, Virgin of Solitude,
his faith in his ability Blessed Virgin of Carmen,
feline quitapesares sacred Virgin of the Royal
jay and oriole. tender Virgin of the Rescue,
sweet Virgin of Peace,
FLORENTINO Virgin of Coromoto,
Jay and oriole. Virgin of Chiquinquirá
To walk alone that path pious Virgin of the Valley,
the feet must be dried, Holy Virgin of the Pillar,
and it will become deeper Faithful Mother of Sorrows
the bad wrinkle on the face; give me the brightness that you give.
because while plain and sky Holy Michael! Give me your shield,
give me the flow of your light, your dagger and your knife,
as long as my voice can be heard Blessed Child of Atocha,
above the storm, Most Holy Trinity.
I am the one who sets my course (In measures of silence
with the rudder of the song. black bongo that starts up.
And if I ask for help with the saying Cheers, gentlemen! The dawn
apply this truth: drinking at the royal pace).
 YOU SING I
1 5
The horizon and I go There goes a wrapped one
only through the flat land: through the pampero hairstyle:
He linked me to all the directions this is how my hope goes
his daring of open rope. without you inside the soul.
Plains, and plains, and plains
2 I crossed to go to "Your Forgetting"
Dunes of the sandy areas and after so much walking
cups of the bells, I reached 'I love you the same'.
thorns of the grieving cardón, Without you inside my soul
swords of the ears. I remembered when I used to go
In San Carlos your lagoons on the plain raining.
they are mirrors of the herons.
In them the sad moon, 6
the stains can be seen on them. Palmarito in Apure,
Swords of the ears of grain: The Amparo in Arauca.
the blanket and I playing Clarines has gone silent,
with your memory and the breeze. solitude was populated with wings.
The thistles roar from afar.
3 sad because they do not sprout:
The burned one is in mourning If the rosebush is always watered
like a Lenten flower What a delight it is that you have roses!
because the breezes played Solitude was filled with wings,
a carnival of candlelight. and in Cantaura for your absence
I walked with sad luck, they do not want to sing the auras.
the plain made me sad
between my life and your eyes 7
the plains of San Carlos. Alongside Platero trotting
A carnival of candlelight. the noble sings blooms
The wind took away the afternoon and in the thirst of the muleteer, he gets wet

black leaf papers. through the paths without green.

Your four, Plain, modulates
4 Songs of Andalusia
The lantern in the caneyes and that's why you always have
he brushed his shy red, for your pain, smiles.
and went out to chew on legends Through the roads without green
the tip of the streams. deep cargo of tenderness
How the humble verse teaches Juan Ramón Jiménez passed.
its threads of village and soul,
how it goes from sorrow to sorrow 8
and from guitar to guitar. Wheat stalks of withered straw
The tip of the slopes! in the distance they turn blue.
With the anguish of a traveler. In the crown of a palm tree
The four took the road. the chiriguare announces to me.
Here was the herd, father,
that gave us shade another time: he folded his gray blanket.
on this fallen wire Birds of burnt lands
My dreams got tangled up. the paujil cries far away.
The chiriguare announces me. The canal shapes the shore,
In the cup of remembrance the burning of the reeds,
the nostalgia screams, silent. and I shaping myself in want,
me, mute, without you, shaping myself.
9 The paujil cries distantly.
My mother embroidered in affection Threads of gossip cry
in her fragrant rose garden: dreams of Lazo Martí.
they paid for pruning and watering
with deep love the rose bushes. 13
Once crossed my dreams Thorny pure thorn
silent and on tiptoe without leaves and half dry
and she stayed all happy when the drizzles come
because she saw me smile. stars will sprout for you.
With deep love the rosebushes. The siesta quenched its thirst
What a fragrance your roses have. under the old palm trees
my mother's rose garden! and the cicadas stretch
from stem to stem its wire.
10 Stars will sprout for you
The afternoon feels sorrowful. to pay with perfumes
he put on a gray suit. the bitter mockery of the wind.
For a solitary absence
we said goodbye three times. 14
The dark night reached me I remembered that couplet
in the lower marshes what the air has so deep:
just from hearing your name Love is like wheat
the jaguars learned it. If it is not watered, it does not grow.

We said goodbye three times: The hill rises to the plain,

through a spike of goodbyes from night to morning.
I am pruning sighs. Until when will I go walking
your memory with no exit?
11 If it is not watered, it will not grow.
They go, the cowboys of the wind, Why would I be born?
they are pecking at those candles. if you never watered it?
Howls sing songs of smoke
about the burnt board. 15
In the sheets of your town The night changed in realitos
I saw. Fly the question: my twilight slippers:
Will the immobile be the colt? by the banks of Hato Viejo
and the fleeting plain? I immersed the daydream in my donkey.
About the burnt board In the wetlands of your town
they expressed bitterness the cane bravas are sweet
the palmaseca and the puddle. and the little gossipers come out at night
fishing for guabinas at dawn.
12 I marked the daydream on my donkey.
The traveling twilight My donkey was telling tales to the wind
their donkey braying collars. my happiness betting on luck
my sorrow dealt only aces.
16 The wind caught me by the window
The two for the long land "Sure, brother, he told me,"
blue and silent night that in 'Palma Muda' I await you.
I felt like a javelin in life
between the moon and the bride. 20
Lagoon at midnight The morichal seeks the water,
How was it declared. the nest seeks the green.
It seems to be the sky Little Creole of the elusive dream
the one who copied from the water. The one you dreamed of is coming.
Between the moon and the bride Who will win me over in love?
the breeze whistled the nocturne after I lost playing?
from the long and lonely shadow. I clashed with the white-one,
you had the double-white!
17 The one you dreamed of is coming
In Puerto Nutrias sometimes to get tangled up in your affection

the streets are blue: herds of twelve thousand cattle.

They look like a guitar
with freshwater rods. 21
The course of my canoe Looking in the river's wells
I got caught up in your affection: dreaming hurt the heron
from Bruzual to San Fernando I remembered your smile
I passed by Palmarito. in my gray wells of soul.
With freshwater reeds How the night sparkles,
through the picturesque streets how it is reflected in the puddle.
the singer from Apure. The river drinks from the heavens,
oh, from your distant eyes.
18 In my gray wells of soul
They say that they pay for loves a lonely curiara,
what is lost in the cards the only one that does not sink.
and that's why I dream,
I dream that you win me. 22
The cloudy goes north The triangle of my hut
and to the South the herons fly: I was swallowed by the immense low.
in the illusion of twilight The sun overflows sideways
the moon goes with them. pipe for memories.
I dream that you win me. How to tame the herd
The moon and you have left me when the copla is stretched.
to despair me. In this land, she sings
binds more than the rope.
19 Pipe for memories.
It was left trembling behind me Where will I go to satisfy myself
the pulse of the serene pipe. the blue thirst of your distance!
Through this bitter mud
the wind caught me by the window. 23
The night to play with me In the fugitive songs
he/she sat on the sands: joy and effort remain with me:
I open them with joy, your big eyes, small.
I pull them to the edge of pain.
I felt sorry for the grass. 27
What do you do with so much dew? How the drizzle left,
without a drop of green how summer came,
for your yellow mourning? how it stretches in the distance
Joy and effort remain with me. the song of the taro-taro.
I looked in the lagoon Lend me the gifts
the dark cloud and the star. White spots on your nails
to simulate herons
CANTAS II to my cisterns of anguish.
24 The song of the taro-taro.
Bamboo of the swinging cane Today I felt the verse bitter
layer of blues, that sweetened on your lips.
cloth of all the greens,
crown of wings and lights. 28
Its wide horizon disk In his curia, my uncle
the morning started to laugh, through the brave Orinoco
and full of sun and breeze - mercury in rubber soul -
the blanket drove me crazy. She ran loves and downpours.
Summit of wings and lights. Captain of the Flame
Trino and lung - the oriole the wind goes contemplative:
The bamboos populate the dawn. if it happens with thirst tomorrow

Where will the dew drink?

25 He ran love affairs and downpours.
From merely looking at the plain They filmed in Río Negro
Your clear eyes are green gold of its twenty years.
because they have tenderness
of the color of what they dream. 29
Cane field on the sand The dawn interweaves
burnt pulp and without shoot decanting curves and rejs.
how it will feel sweet Through the dark corrals
your look color of well. Drizzle foams the milking.
Of the color of what they dream. Capachos beats the corozo,
How do they not get blackened? rugged wind mats.
for so much looking at my sorrow! From the quiet one to the horizon
a horn of mooing trembles.
26 Drizzle foams the milking:
The petals of your laughter I soaked in your dews
in the cherry tree the channel of feeling
it splashed you with tears
the evil of the wasp nest. 30
I remembered that couplet Water from Black Lagoon
what is so sweet in the air: -old mother of a thousand trees-
the palm full of breeze Antonio Machado one day
He came to the town in your style. it got dark in your pine forests.
The evil of the hornet's nest: Your voice, savanna, modulates
your small, big mouth, soul that Castilla gave you,
and that's why there is indomitable faith in green card game
in the sorrow that you sigh. I won the clean table.
It got dark in your pines. I snuggled into the blanket
There goes alone and noble back from your ranch;
on the back of the romance. I passed by "El Sentimiento"
dark and drizzling.
31 I won the clean table:
Telling the old pipe Play the ace of hearts
your pain of a hundred roads I’m waiting for you in the fall.
comes whistling cicadas
the gray dusk. 35
For lies the people, I'm going through this savanna
for truth the plain. harp that tuned the silence
When you see the full moon hard banks of 'I Go Alone'
you see nothing but a half moon. pathway of 'Agua Lejos'.
The gray dusk. Rinconada of 'The Oxen'
And you are not angry with me, arenales of the "Oblivion"...
neither pity nor affection. In the soul of these names
the 'florió' weighed on the road.
32 Path of "Agua Lejos"
You who have seen sadness I sowed a palm of forgetfulness
from the long and solitary land, and it brought back memories.
you who know my hope
look at how it deepens. 36
The cowboy-black night The crimson skies trembled
the blanket and the horse his farewell in the cactus leaves.
sounding spurs of crickets Let's part the landscape
He crossed the Hato alley. as a cowboy and cowgirl.
Look at how it deepens, The dark night caught me.
like a stealthy star in the estuaries of Arauca
in the jagüey of my song. and I went for your eyes
through the peak of a song.
33 As a plainsman and plainswoman.
With the bias the guama hair Take the star and the palm,
to the waist the black belt, leave me the well and the sand.
that quiet man is like
wells of Portuguesa. 37
The sands burn in the sun Maybe I'll leave tomorrow
and the water changes the flames; when the alley lights me up
the bongo on the trip scratches after this coplera breeze,
the motionless light of the afternoon. a bit of the sweet afternoon.
Wells of Portuguesa: The canyon said moon,
under the peaceful calm the estuary said heron.
the caiman dreams of its evils. I will only tell you
what the guitar said.
34 A bit of the sweet afternoon.
My hands are gamblers opening Loaded donkeys on the hills
for my yearnings, you sting: they carry barrels of clouds.
 near my remoteness.
38 In the light of Garcilaso
With the timbre of this cuatro ecological breeze whispers
I remembered when I was going in the palm of your hand.
at night on my tired ox.
And the herd in the distance. 42
There go the cart drivers The horizon and I go
by the crescent bank: only across the flat land:
they open sad alleyways it linked me to all the directions
the echoes of his guards. his daring of open rope.
The herd in the distance While the others laugh
in the throat of a rooster the moon and you silent,
he winked at me with his little light. and the shadow of my hand
tremble when your shadow stumbles.
39 Alone on the flat land.
Man of the sister land To walk and walk towards you
What mystery you wrap yourself in: like someone who distances themselves from you.

reserve at the 'cangrejal'

hard colt and lonely soul 43
Here also the goodbye Wait for me, buddy,
the bold dream smiles; on the patio's railing
here also "is to arrive" I'm going to grease the rope.
a pretext to leave. what I pricked from the sardo leather.
Rough foal and lonely soul, Who is it, finally, that complains
with bitterness in the flank when the fire licks the water
Don Segundo Sombra left. the water because it burns
or why does the fire go out?
40
Today I almost became happy, 44
almost purely dreaming of you, Wait for me, palmasola,
almost parodied by you palm of the road, wait for me,
the almost almost song. that I want to stitch nostalgias
Soul of the Lucero Herd with music from your leaves.
a sound comes in the breezes: Only one mouth kisses you
What will the cedar of the four have? and one eye sees you no more:
so dry and blooming! the clear mouth of the pipe,
The copla of almost almost. the blue eye of the jagüey.
Almost as beautiful as you With music from your leaves
the evening star. I put myself in the sand dunes,
I started to remember her.
41
Under the shadow of Quevedo 45
you forget to make me forget, The cowboys ran into each other,
do you remember not wanting me sun dead the horses:
in the light of Garcilaso. Brother, oh lonely land!
High and deep the night Oh life is really tough, brother!
it sparkles on my temples Curlew
like the sign of your absence -thoughtful and alert eye-
your silence sharpens motionless
the song when you fly.
Ah, life is really hard, brother!
The rubber worker Arturo Cova
He told Santos Luzardo.