Translation:Village Woman

Distant vibration of gloomy cowbells overflows in the air the rural fragrance of its worries. In the silent patio the setting sun bleeds its farewell The autumnal amber of the panorama takes on a cold tint of aching gray.

At the gate of the house which time has clawed full of holes the calm silhouette of a gold-colored ox, appears silent and later passes to the nearby stable, yearning with his biblical puils, hearing the oration of the cowbells, for his virile years as a bull.

At the wall of the garden, giving flight to the grief of his song, springs the gentle rooster, and, in alert sadness, like two teardrops, his eyes tremble in the dead evening.

It languidly tears itself up in the ancient village, the sweet yaravi of a guitar, in whose eternity of deep loss the sad voice of an Indian don-dons like the old bell of a churchyard.

Resting my elbows over the wall, when the dark shade triumphs in the soul and the wind in the stiff tree branches prays cries of quenas, timid, uncertain, I sigh in worry, in seeing the golden and red penumbra weeping a tragic blue of dead idylls.