Alfredo Zitarrosa — Mi Tierra En Invierno song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Mi Tierra En Invierno" by Alfredo Zitarrosa.
Lyrics
Pobre mi tierra querida
tan rigoreada en invierno
cuando el sol se pone enfermo
y parece que la olvida.
Siembra el paisano la vida
plantando trigos tempranos
y aunque el caballo esté sano
lo cuida de la garganta
que aunque el caballo no canta
lo ha de tener siempre a mano.
Pobre mi tierra querida
parece que en estos años
el invierno hace más daño
que en épocas preteridas;
será exceso de fatigas
serán vientos de frontera
dicen que la Cordillera
deja pasar malos vientos
que un maremoto de intento
le ha bajado la cimera.
Buena mi tierra querida
le hace lugar a cualquiera
del vacuno a la crucera
del trigo limpio a la ortiga
y no hace falta que diga
que, cuando hay inundación
el alacrán, el ratón
-bichos que no lo merecen-
hallan que ella le ofrece
hasta el último albardón.
Sabe mi tierra querida
que no precisa hacer cuentas:
cuando se arma la tormenta
ya la tiene presentida.
Secará al sol las heridas
que hayan podido dolerle
porque llegado setiembre
será tiempo de castrar
de marcar y descolar
se trilla el trigo en diciembre.
Pobre mi tierra querida
tan rigoreada en agosto
pero igual dará calostro
la vaca recién parida
hay que vigilar la hormiga
que hace pirva en campo llano
porque el invierno al secano
lo ha vuelto tierra jugosa
y porque todas las cosas
cambiarán con el verano.
Lyrics translation
Poor my dear land
so strict in winter
when the sun gets sick
and he seems to forget it.
Sow the peasant life
planting early wheat
and even if the horse is healthy
he takes care of his throat.
that although the horse does not sing
he must always keep it at hand.
Poor my dear land
it seems that in these years
winter does more damage
that in times gone by;
it will be excessive fatigue
will be border winds
they say the mountain range
let bad winds pass
that a tidal wave of attempt
his crown has been lowered.
Good my dear land
makes room for anyone
from the cattle to the cruise
from clean wheat to Nettle
and I don't need to say
that, when there is flood
the Alacran, the mouse
- bugs that don't deserve it-
they find that she offers him
every last cargo ship.
You know my dear land
that you don't have to do accounts:
when the storm sets in
you've already seen it.
It will dry the wounds in the sun
that may have hurt you
because come September
it will be time to castrate
marking and taking off
wheat is threshed in December.
Poor my dear land
so rigorous in August
but still give colostrum
the newly-born cow
you have to watch the Ant
that makes pirva in plain field
because the winter to the dry
it has made it juicy land
and because all things
they'll change with the summer.