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Buenos Aires Route Seventy-six,
a path traveled yesterday
through the pampas of Catriel.
Heading to Sauce Corto, to visit
Rich Indians of Ventana,
and Loncos by Cura Malal.
For some it is the past,
for others, it is tradition.
I have built a corral of stones
where to bitter my blood.
On your margins mud ,
Route Seventy-six.
Which is born in Sierra Chica
and dies in López Lecube,
heading towards Bahía
which was once Blanca.
/>There by the sandy beaches of Chasicó.
Forts where the gaucho, by decree, went out.
Today the face of Roca
on the hundred-dollar bills,
and you deserted footprint
awaken, in me, the banished.
Bravos who today,
do not listen or respond.
Bonaerense Ruta Seventy-six.
I am singing to you
and you, waiting for me.
Well, I must go, to reach
the mountain corner of national pride.
For some it is the past,
for others, it is tradition.
Corral of stones I have built
where to embitter my blood.
On your margins mud,
Route Seventy-six.