El Poeta - Atahualpa Yupanqui

Los viejos cobres del monte

Otoño sembrando van

Y en las guitarras del campo

Ya nacen las coplas de la soledad

Y en las guitarras del campo

Ya nacen las coplas de la soledad

Emponchan los manantiales

El viento norte al pasar

Y allá en los huaicos del cerro

Se queman los ecos de aquel carnaval

Y allá en los huaicos del cerro

Se queman los ecos de aquel carnaval

Con el lucero del alba

Las cuestas repecharé

Ya están los gallos cantando

Se me hace vidita que no he’I de volver

Adiós mis cerros queridos

Mis piedras pintadas

Ya no he’I de volver

Estrellas que me alumbraron

Caminos que caminé

Me han golpiao todos los vientos

Heridos de coplas la vida pasé

Me han golpiao todos los vientos

Heridos de coplas la vida pasé

En una cueva del cerro

Escondí mi corazón

Pa' que lo quiero conmigo

Si solo me ha dado trabajo y rigor

Pa' que lo quiero conmigo

Si solo me ha dado trabajo y rigor

Con el lucero del alba

Las cuestas repecharé

Ya están los gallos cantando

Se me hace vidita que no he’I de volver

Adiós mis cerros queridos

Mis piedras pintadas

Ya no he’I de volver

The old coppers of the mountain

fall sowing van

And in the field guitars

The couplets of loneliness are already born

And in the field guitars

The couplets of loneliness are already born

They pump the springs

The north wind passing

And there in the huaicos of the hill

The echoes of that carnival are burned

And there in the huaicos of the hill

The echoes of that carnival are burned

with the morning star

I will repeat the slopes

The roosters are already singing

It makes me feel like I haven't come back

Goodbye my beloved hills

my painted stones

I no longer have to return

stars that illuminated me

roads i walked

All the winds have hit me

Wounded by coplas, I spent my life

All the winds have hit me

Wounded by coplas, I spent my life

In a cave on the hill

I hid my heart

So I want it with me

If only it has given me work and rigor

So I want it with me

If only it has given me work and rigor

with the morning star

I will repeat the slopes

The roosters are already singing

It makes me feel like I haven't come back

Goodbye my beloved hills

my painted stones

I no longer have to return