Mercedes Sosa - La Peregrinación (huella pampeana) Navidad Nuestra.
On the path, on the path, Joseph and Mary,
through the frozen pampas, thistles and nettles.
On the path, on the path, cutting through the fields,
there’s no shelter nor inn, keep on walking.
Little flower of the field, carnation of the air,
if no one shelters you, where will you be born?
Where will you be born, little flower?
now that you are growing,
frightened little dove, sleepless cricket.
On the path, on the path, Joseph and Mary.
With a hidden God, nobody knew.
On the path, on the path, the pilgrims.
Lend me a shelter, for my child.
On the path, on the path, suns and moons;
two little almond eyes, olive skin.
Oh, little donkey in the field, oh, brindle (barcino) ox,
my child is coming, make room for him.
A little hut of quincha, it only shelters me,
two friendly souls, the clear moon.
On the path, on the path, Joseph and Mary
With a hidden God, no one knew.
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