Текст и перевод песни Aida Cuevas - Las Tres Huastecas

Las Tres Huastecas

Para hablar de la Huasteca, hay que haber nacido allá
Saborear la carne seca con traguitos de mezcal
Fumar cigarrito de hoja, prenderlo con pedernal
Y aquel que mejor lo moja, más largo lo fumará
Esa Huasteca, yo no sé lo que tendrá
El que una vez la conoce, regresa y se queda allá
Huasteca linda, yo no te podré olvidar
Si nací con su creencia, y nací con tu cantar
La Huasteca Potosina, tiene flores de a montón
Sierras llenas de neblina, y laderas de ilusión
En la Huasteca hidalguense no se alquila el corazón
Aquel que diga ′dispense', no amanece en su colchón
Esa Huasteca, quién sabe lo que tendrá
El que una vez la conoce, regresa y se queda allá
Huasteca linda, yo no te podré olvidar
Si nací con tu querencia, y nací con tu cantar
Huasteca Veracruzana, que se arrulla con el mar
Que canta con las montañas, y se duerme en el palmar
Se lazan toros ladinos, corriendo por el breñal
Mientras lloran los violines, huapangueando en el corral
Esa Huasteca, yo no sé lo que tendrá
El que una vez la conoce, regresa y se queda allá
Huasteca linda, yo no te podré olvidar
Si nací con tu querencia, y nací con tu cantar

The Three Huastecas

To speak of Huasteca, one must have been born there
To savor the dried meat with sips of mezcal
To smoke a cigar, light it with flint
And the one who dampens it best will smoke it the longest
That Huasteca, I do not know what it has
Whoever knows it once, returns and stays there
Dear Huasteca, I will not be able to forget you
If I was born with its belief, and I was born with your song
The Potosi Huasteca has lots of flowers
Mountains full of mist, and hillsides of illusion
In the Huasteca of Hidalgo, hearts are not rented
Whoever says 'excuse me' will not wake up in their bed
That Huasteca, who knows what it has
Whoever knows it once, returns and stays there
Dear Huasteca, I will not be able to forget you
If I was born with your affection, and I was born with your song
Huasteca of Veracruz, that rocks to the sea
That sings with the mountains, and sleeps in the palm grove
Cunning bulls are thrown, running through the scrubland
While the violins weep, playing huapangoes in the corral
That Huasteca, I do not know what it has
Whoever knows it once, returns and stays there
Dear Huasteca, I will not be able to forget you
If I was born with your affection, and I was born with your song