Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Violín Del Monte, artist - Peteco Carabajal
Date of issue: 07.09.2015
Song language: Spanish
Violín Del Monte(original) |
Violinista de los montes |
músico del campo nuestro |
se te está yendo la vida |
entre zambas y recuerdos |
El arco deshilachado |
conjuga todo los tiempos |
y llora todo los lloros |
de la esperanza y el sueño. |
Con tu violín de tres cuerdas |
en verano y en invierno |
sigues tocando y tocando |
hasta que se entra el lucero. |
Tu fortuna es de amistad |
no sabes lo que es dinero |
los sentires que te animan |
están más allá del tiempo. |
Cuando llega el carnaval |
cruzas montes y potreros |
y sales buscando fiesta |
con tu silbo de señuelo. |
Con tu ponchito gastado |
cubres tu violín zambero |
igual que a un niño dormido |
lo cuida a tu instrumento. |
Violinista de los montes |
músico del campo nuestro. |
Y así te pasas las horas |
entre danza y zapateo |
y de vez en cuando tocas |
la danza de tus recuerdos. |
Entonces te trae la tarde |
la luz de unos ojos negros |
que prometieron volver |
y que lejos se perdieron. |
Violinista de los campos |
músico humilde del cerro |
como llora tu violín |
eternizado en el viento. |
(translation) |
fiddler of the hills |
country musician |
your life is going away |
between zambas and memories |
the frayed bow |
conjugate all tenses |
and cries all the cries |
of hope and dreams. |
With your three-stringed violin |
In summer and in winter |
you keep playing and playing |
until the star enters. |
Your fortune is friendship |
you don't know what money is |
the feelings that animate you |
they are beyond time. |
When the carnival arrives |
you cross mountains and paddocks |
and you go out looking for a party |
with your decoy whistle. |
With your worn ponchito |
you cover your zambero violin |
just like a sleeping child |
take care of your instrument. |
fiddler of the hills |
musician from our country. |
And so you spend the hours |
between dance and zapateo |
and from time to time you play |
the dance of your memories. |
Then the evening brings you |
the light of black eyes |
who promised to return |
and how far they were lost. |
fiddler of the fields |
humble musician from the hill |
how your violin cries |
eternal in the wind. |