Noel Guarany Without Borders After a mouthful - one time, I arrived - out of curiosity, That the addiction - is like it's not mangy, it never stops - it doesn't even fix itself. Ball of upright people I saw immediately that it wasn't, On the spring night The voice of a tango stuttered And I'm crazy about fandango That I don't even paint about chireral. I tied my zaino - longito, On a guamirim branch, I've been like this since I was a kid, I don't joke or make things easy. I don't believe in witches 'Pero - que las, las hay', I'm from the coast of Uruguay, My dear old man And for being unprepared There are so many kids without fathers. At the Santa Fe ranch, Barreado wattle and daub, In a guest's lock I'll catch a glimpse of myself in the banzé. Chinaredo with football, In the smoky environment, A lamp stand, right in the center, In the twilight of dawn, For those who arrived from outside, there was little to see inside! I held hands with a tiangaça That crossed me on the side And now comes out dark Among the dust and smoke, Oigalé beautiful china, Brunette with all the mane, Those with the brasina venta, With the smell of lechiguana That when you lift an eyelash Even the night lights up . Mixed between a devil and a saint, With the air of someone who is the owner And a taste of temporona That brings water to the throat. I stuck to the pernta Like a tick And the piper was a mulatto Who played even in his sleep And the harmonica whimpered Like a cat's courtship! The old harmonica moaned, Sometimes it almost stopped, Suddenly it woke up And in a vanerão it got lost And I - against the soft skin Of that dark body, I felt the small world, Pumping full of rapture Two eyes - clover flowers With splashes of serenity! But what's good comes to an end The old saying was fulfilled, I was the one who danced, cradled, In the sweet arms of China I heard - with a glance, A kind of neighing, It was the owner of the mouthpiece, Half octave in a corner, Who was looking at me - with astonishment, More serious than a weed! And it was he who came, Because the pinguancha was his, Huffing and opening the field Like the owner of a rodeo. I wanted to break myself in half With a dagger blade That - if it catches me - ruins me, It came to raise a speck, But it's not for nothing - chomisco! That I'm from São Luiz Gonzaga! Halfway around my arm I managed to remove the gash And I almost got in trouble Because there was little space, But I felt the heat of the steel And the heat of the steel burns, I got up - without fuss, Because of the shamelessness And I released my bull tag In a horrible buenas -late! I have seen ugly things, I have seen Jewry, But even today it gives me goosebumps Remembering that fight, Maybe whoever hears it - won't believe it, But I saw it sprout on the neck, From the Indian with the loud scream Like a red belt And from the lip to the ear It kept flashing the bone! The Indian was a bull Indian, But even a bull kneels, Cut from lip to ear He piled up like a piece of leather And that was a blast, The kind that was scary, The chinaredo was scared away And friends - it was a joke, It even looked like a mare Shooting at a varzedo! There is no one to paint the portrait Of a mouthful - when it bursts, Clinks of daggers - spurs And screams of contempt. Forty-four screams From every corner of the room And the old baguala harmonica In a pacholent vanerão, Accompanying the bullet turumbamba! It's china that slips away, Swirling at the door And chiru from the crooked guampa That comes straight to the window, Screaming - with all his might, In a hallucinating scream, Indian who can't guarantee himself, Seeing blood - gets scared And goes - out into the field, Taking everything on! I am a believer in divinity, I die when God wants, But friends - if I say so, I even endanger the truth, In that barbarity, With a chinaredo running away, With screams and bullets whizzing by, The bagpiper - oblivious to everything, Played a clinudo xote, Already almost halfway sleeping! And things went like this, I balanced the situation, I was almost out of ammunition, everyone was shooting at me. What my end was going to be, I realized - suddenly, I'm not going to stay as a seed, But I like to walk in the world, They waited for me at the back, I left at the front door... And from there I entered the forest, Below the shooting And I still heard the flourish Of the mulatto's cordeona And, to make the story short, I left for the other side, I swam across Uruguay, That my zaino was a capincho And the story of this zaino It's part of my past! And China - this question is asked to me Every time I speak out It's something I complain about Because I don't think it's right I consider it a slight That I can't understand, I, in the fearful danger of a hot situation Everyone asks about China And nobody cares about me! And China - I never saw it again In