Topics
Estancias in Argentina
LAKES CORRIDOR
Texts: Cristina Bozzoli, Pablo Etchevers
My old mate galleta
What a pity it was to lose you
What hand thwarted your luck
Maybe the hand of time
I even believed you were eternal
I never imagined your death.
In your greenish belly
How many landscapes I saw
How many verses I wrote
As I enjoyed your bitter taste
How many times I made you long
And you knew why.
In the harsh winters
When the frost covered everything in white
Your body warmed
My hands with its heat
So that the singer fellow
Would grab the guitar.
And it was then when the party started
You and I, face to face
mate and guitar in the shade
mate and guitar in the clearing
Miles around
There was no public well.
My old friend, my brother
What a crafty fate
I never hit the bottle
I found my calm in you
In this farewell, I give my soul? oh!
My old mate galleta