Engl. Trans  Estévez  Mata del Anima Sola

Tree of the soul lonely,
wide opening of the riverside long
now you will be able to say:
Here slept Cantaclaro.
pilin, pilin, pilin,....

With the whistle and the sting
of the twisting wind,
the dappled and violet dusk
quietly entered the corral.
pilin, ....

The night, tired mare,
shakes her mane and black tail
above the riverside;
and, in its silence,
your ghostly heart is filled with awe.