Romance de la Luna Tucumana - Pedro Aznar, Mercedes Sosa

Bajo el puñal del invierno

Murió en los campos la tarde

Con su tambor de desvelos

Salió la luna a rezarle

Rezos en la noche blanca

Tañen las arpas del aire

Mientras le nacen violines

A los álamos del valle

Zamba de la luna llena

Baila la noche en las calles

Con su pañuelo de esquinas

Y su ademán de saudades

Se emponchan de grises nieblas

Los verdes cañaverales

Y caminan los caminos

Con su escolta de azahares

La noche llena de arpegios

La copa de los nogales;

El tamboril de la luna

Cuelga su copla en el aire

Zamba de la luna llena

Baila la noche en las calles

Con su pañuelo de esquinas

Y su ademán de saudades

Mi corazón bate palmas

Con las manos de mi sangre

Mientras, cansada, la luna

Se duerme sobre los valles

Under the knife of winter

She died in the fields in the afternoon

With his sleepless drum

She came out the moon to pray to him

Prayers in the white night

The harps of the air sing

While violins are born

To the poplars of the valley

Zamba of the full moon

She dances the night in the streets

With his corner handkerchief

And his gesture of saudades

They cover themselves with gray mists

The green cane fields

And they walk the roads

With his escort of orange blossoms

The night full of arpeggios

The cup of the walnut trees;

The drum of the moon

Hang your copla in the air

Zamba of the full moon

Dance the night in the streets

With his corner handkerchief

And his gesture of saudades

My heart claps

With the hands of my blood

While, tired, the moon

It sleeps over the valleys