El Cosechero - Mercedes Sosa

El viejo rio que va

Cruzando el atardecer

Como un gran camalotal

Lleva la balsa en su loco vaiven

Rumbo a la cosecha cosechero yo sere

Y entre copos blancos mi esperanza cantare

Con manos curtidas dejare en el algodon

Mi corazon

La tierra del chaco quebrachera y montaraz

Prendera en mi sangre con un ronco sapucay

Y sera en el surco mi sombrero bajo el sol

Faro de luz

Algodon que se va … Que se va … Que se va …

Plata blanda mojada de luna y de sol

Un ranchito borracho de sueños y amor

Quiero yo

De corrientes vengo yo

Barranquera ya se ve

Y en la costa un acordeon

Gimiendo va su lento chamame

Rumbo a la cosecha cosechero yo me ire

Y entre copos blancos mi esperanza cantare

Con manos curtidas dejare en el algodon

Mi corazon

The old river that goes

Crossing the sunset

Like a big camalotal

Take the raft in its crazy swing

Heading for the harvest harvester I will be

And between white flakes I will sing my hope

With tanned hands I will leave in the cotton

My heart

The land of the Quebrachera and Montaraz Chaco

Turn on my blood with a hoarse sapucay

And it will be in the groove my hat under the sun

Lighthouse

Cotton that is leaving… That is leaving… That is leaving…

Soft silver wet with moon and sun

A little ranch drunk with dreams and love

I want

I come from currents

Barranquera is already seen

And on the coast an accordion

moaning goes his slow chamame

Heading for the harvest, harvester, I'll go

And between white flakes I will sing my hope

With tanned hands I will leave in the cotton

My heart