Sweet neighbor of the green forest 
Eternal guest of April in bloom 
Archenemy of the brambleberry 
Violeta Parra.



Dancer of translucent water 
Tree filled with songbirds 
Violeta Parra. 
You’ve been all over this land 
Unearthing pitchers of greda clay  
And setting captive birds free 
Among the branches. 
Worried always about others 
When it’s not the nephew 
                                 it’s the aunt 
When will you think of your self 
Viola the pious. 
Your sorrow is an infinite circle 
That never begins and never ends 
But you outdo everything 
Admirable Viola. 
When it comes to dancing the cueca 
No one escapes your guitar 
Even the dead come out to dance 
A cueca waltz. 

Cueca of the Battle of Maipú 
Cueca of the Sinking of the Ángamos 
Cueca of the Earthquake of Chillán 
All things. 
Not bandurria 
                  not mockingbird 
                                       not wood thrush 
Not quail free or captive 
      only you 
                  three times you 
                                        Avian of terrestrial paradise. 
               freshwater gull 
All the adjectives are not enough 
All the nouns are not enough 
To name you. 
You do it all 
Like someone drinking a glass of wine. 
But the bureaucrats don’t love you 
And they close the doors to your home 
And they hate you to death 
Sorrowful Viola. 
Because you don’t dress up like a clown 
Because you don’t buy or sell yourself 
Because you speak the earth’s language 
Viola Chilensis. 
Because you tell it like it is! 

How could they love you 
                                I wonder 
They’re only sad functionaries 
Gray like desert stones 
Don’t you think? 
But you 
           Violeta of the Andes 
Flower of the coastal cordillera 
You are a never-ending spring 
Of human life. 
Your heart opens when it wants 
Your will closes when it wants 
And when it wants your health sails 
You only call them by their names 
And all the colors and all the forms 
Get up and walk like Lazarus 
In body and soul. 
No one can complain when you 
Sing softly or when you scream 
As if they were slitting your throat 
Volcanic Viola! 
What the listener has to do 
Is keep a religious silence 
Because your song knows where it’s going 
Rays are what come from your voice 
Going toward the cardinal points 
Blazing harvester with black eyes 
Violeta Parra. 
You’re accused of this and that 
I know you and say who you are 
O little lamb in wolf’s clothing! 
Violeta Parra. 
I know you well