.
.
.
My old mate cookie,
too bad I did miss,
which hand cut short your luck,
perhaps the hand of time,
if even I thought it was eternal ,
never imagined your death.
.
in your tummy green landscapes
in your tummy green landscapes
how I looked,
many verses tacked
while enjoying your bitter,
how many times did you
long and you know why.
.
In those
In those
harsh winters when the frost whitened
your warm little body
my hands with hot
pa 'qu'el friend singer
latches on to the guitar.
.
And there is not more gun spree,
And there is not more gun spree,
you and me in a head to head,
mate and guitar in the shade,
mate and guitar in the clear,
in leagues around
no jagüel orejano.
.
My old friend and brother,
My old friend and brother,
what Sotret destination,
never gave the Limet,
in you I found the quiet,
this goodbye I lay my soul ...
Oh, my old mate cookie.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment