Paroles et traduction Voces del Rancho - Ramiro Sierra

Ramiro Sierra

La nieve estaba callendo,
Los pinos se congelaban,
En el risco del madroño,
Unas armas apuntaban,
Solo las plumas de nieve,
Aquellas miras nublaban.

Se oyo el mujir de un novillo,
Que venia con la manada,
Y los cascos de un caballo,
Del señor que las arreaba,
Ramiro dejo la bestia,
Mientras el risco rodeaba.

El caballo era un potrillo,
Pero muy bien educado,
Por eso sin su jinete,
Supo realar el ganado,
Ramiro estaba orgulloso,
De su repinto dosalbo.

Les dijo ramiro sierra,
Aqui no se engaña a nadie,
Yo solo vine a cobrarles,
La muerte de mi compadre,
Y a recoger el ganado,
Que le robaron cobardes.

Eran quinientos novillos,
Tambien ganado lechero,
Por eso los codiciaban,
Esos malditos cuatreros,
Mas no sabian que ramiro,
Les iva a rajar el cuero.

Calibre dos veintitres,
Que bonito pataleabas,
Se confundian los quejidos,
Con el mujir de las vacas,
Y los ecos en la sierra,
Esa balada grababan.

Adios repinto dosalbo,
Siempre seras el primero,
Ya murio don pablo chavez,
Fue carraqueado en el cerro,
Ojala que aya en el cielo,
Sigas herrando becerros.

Ramiro Sierra

The snow was falling,
The pines were freezing,
On the Madrono cliff,
Some weapons were pointing
Only the feathers of snow,
Those sights were clouded.

The moo of a steer was heard,
Coming with the herd
And the hooves of a horse
Of the lord who drove them,
Ramiro left the beast,
As he circled the cliff.

The horse was a colt,
But very well educated
That's why without his rider,
He was able to rally the cattle
Ramiro was proud
Of his white-faced roan.

Ramiro Sierra told them,
Here you don't fool anyone.
I only came to collect
The death of my friend,
And to pick up the cattle,
That you cowards stole.

There were five hundred steers,
Also dairy cattle,
That's why they coveted them,
Those darned rustlers,
But they didn't know that Ramiro,
Was going to cut their leather.

Twenty-two caliber,
How pretty you galloped,
The moans were confused,
With the mooing of the cows,
And the echoes in the mountains,
Recorded that ballad.

Farewell, white-faced roan,
You will always be the first.
Don Pablo Chavez is now dead,
He was ambushed on the hill,
I hope that in heaven,
You continue shoeing calves.