The Huasteca is in mourning
Their huapanguero died
You can no longer hear that falsetto
What is the soul of the trovero
Rogaciano was called
Rogaciano the huapanguero
And they were sounds of the mountains
The songs of the trovero
La Azucena and la Cecilia
They cry, they cry without consolation
Malagueña salerosa
Their crier has already left
The canal is at its point
Today the grinding begins
The mill is in mourning
And sighs with each turn
For the green coffee plantations
More s beyond that pasture
There are those who say that at night
The huapanguero appears
La Azucena and la Cecilia
They cry, they cry without consolation
Malagueña salerosa
Their crier has already left

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS