Paroles et traduction Orellana Lucca - El Cosechero

El Cosechero

El viejo rio que va,
Cruzando el atardecer,
Como un gran camalotal,
Lleva la balsa en su loco baiben.

Rumbo a la cosecha cosechero yo seré,
Y entre copos blancos mi esperanza cantaré,
Con manos curtidas dejaré en el algodón mi corazón.

La tierra del Chaco quebrachera y montaras,
Prenderá mi sangre con un ronco sapucai,
Y será en el surco mi sombrero,
Bajo el sol faro de luz.

Algodón que se va, que se va, que se va,
Plata blanda mojada de luna y sudor,
Un ranchito borracho,
De sueños y amor quiero yo.
Algodón que se va, que se va, que se va,
Plata blanda mojada de luna y sudor,
Un ranchito borracho,
De sueños y amor quiero yo.

De Corrientes vengo yo,
Barranqueras ya se ve,
Y en la costa un acordeón,
Gimiendo va su lento chamamé.

Rumbo a la cosecha cosechero yo me iré,
Y entre copos blancos mi esperanza cantaré,
Con manos curtidas dejaré en el algodón mi corazón.

La tierra del Chaco quebrachera y montaras,
Prenderá mi sangre con un ronco sapucai,
Y será en el surco mi sombrero,
Bajo el sol faro de luz.

Algodón que se va, que se va, que se va,
Plata blanda mojada de luna y sudor,
Un ranchito borracho,
De sueños y amor quiero yo.
Algodón que se va, que se va, que se va,
Plata blanda mojada de luna y sudor,
Un ranchito borracho,
De sueños y amor quiero yo.

The Harvester

The old river that goes,
Crossing the sunset,
Like a big camalotal,
It carries the raft on its crazy rocking motion.

Heading for the harvest, I'll be a harvester,
And among white flakes I will sing my hope,
With tanned hands I will leave my heart in the cotton.

The land of the Chaco, quebracho and mountain forests,
Will ignite my blood with a hoarse sapucai,
And in the furrow will be my hat,
Under the sun, a beacon of light.

Cotton that goes away, that goes away, that goes away,
Soft silver wet with moon and sweat,
A drunken little ranch,
Of dreams and love, I want it.
Cotton that goes away, that goes away, that goes away,
Soft silver wet with moon and sweat,
A drunken little ranch,
Of dreams and love, I want it.

I come from Corrientes,
Barranqueras is already in sight,
And on the coast an accordion,
Moaning its slow chamamé.

Heading for the harvest, I'll be a harvester,
And among white flakes I will sing my hope,
With tanned hands I will leave my heart in the cotton.

The land of the Chaco, quebracho and mountain forests,
Will ignite my blood with a hoarse sapucai,
And in the furrow will be my hat,
Under the sun, a beacon of light.

Cotton that goes away, that goes away, that goes away,
Soft silver wet with moon and sweat,
A drunken little ranch,
Of dreams and love, I want it.
Cotton that goes away, that goes away, that goes away,
Soft silver wet with moon and sweat,
A drunken little ranch,
Of dreams and love, I want it.