everyone who goes there lets it stay just as they found it.
And you'll find people cruel enough to say deliberately,
you should treat the gauchos the same as wool -- that's kept in place by beating it.
And you're forced to endure it, even though the cup can hold no more....
It seems the gauchos must have some sin -- and this they’re paying for.
NOTES to II.28
II.28.10] slept on a bed] a real bed (made from hide on a frame) was a luxury. A gaucho slept on the ground --see II.31.
II.28.11] luxuries] mate, sugar, tobacco.
Picardia told his story and then kept quiet --
meanwhile everyone was happy celebrating this new meeting.
But by a coincidence - the kind that's never far off -
among all the white folk there happened also to be a black man:
one who was well known as a singer and thought a lot of himself.
And in an unobtrusive manner, pretending it was quite by chance --
as anyone's easy to recognise who wants to start a competition --
he sat down quite calmly, picked up his guitar,
and gave a sweep to the strings. He was full of fine airs, that darky,
and to leave no doubts about it he started clearing his throat.
Everyone there understood what the black man intended:
it was a clear challenge aimed at Martin Fierro himself,
made with a lot of arrogance and in a very insolent manner.
Fierro took up his guitar, since he was always willing –
and with a silent crowd all round them, the two of them began to sing.
NOTE to II.29
a competition] i.e. a singing competition, the payada that follows, a contest of wit and invention.
Martin Fierro
So long as there's still sound in the strings and I can still find the beat,
I won't get left behind without playing hard for the stake –
and I've sworn that no one will ever steal an easy game from me.
Pay attention, then, if you're listening -- and keep quiet if you've just come to stare.
I'll ask you all to forgive me because it's plain to see
that a person can't be free from faults if he’s not free from temptations.
They call a singer a good one if he's better than the worst;
and when two find themselves together, even though they're not the best,
it's their duty as singers to sing in counterpoint.*
A man has to show what's in him at the right opportunity.
He'd be wrong to refuse it when it's a thing he knows how to do –
although there are those who take a pride in having to be persuaded.
As a young man I was a singer - that's a thing that's often said –
but bad luck has her favourites and she's always after me ...
From that time onwards it's my own misfortunes I've sung.
And now I'll try to recapture those years of happiness.
I'll see whether I can forget all the sad changes I've seen ...
So anyone who feels confident - tune up, and we'll start to sing.
Tune up and we'll sing together, we're not afraid to stay up all night;
the audience is waiting -- and to make it worth their while
we'll play the strings till they’re groaning and the candles are burnt out.
And whether the singer who takes it on has someone backing him, or no,
he needn't wait for me to run off no matter how much he knows –
turn by turn, like chain-smokers, we'll keep going till it's light.
And if you like, we'll continue till the day's gone past as well.
I used to be accustomed to singing whole nights through --
anywhere you went, in those days, there were fancy singers around.
And if there's anyone here who won't venture to follow the party on,
or if he can't sing well enough to win -- I'll tell him without flattering,
he might as well go and play on a sponge or with strings made of wool.
El Negro
Your Honours -- I am nothing more than a poor man with a guitar.
But I give thanks to heaven that when the opportunity comes
I'm able to face a singer who'll give this black man a trial.
I've got some white about me too because my teeth are white.
I know how to live among other folk so they don't look down on me –
a person who goes around in strange parts needs to be cautious and quiet.
My mother had ten sons and nine of them weren’t bad.
Maybe this is why I'm protected by Divine Providence --
because in a nest of hen's eggs the best of all is the tenth.*
Black folk are very loving although they don't boast about it.
There's nothing equals their affection nor their tender care –
they're like the maca bird,* that raises its young ones under its wing.
But I've lived free, not depending on anyone
I've always moved across the skies like a bird without a nest:
and whatever I know, I learnt it because I was taught by a Friar.
And I know well as anyone why it is the thunder sounds,
why it is there are seasons of summer and winter time,
and I know too where the waters come from that fall from the heavens above.
I know what there is in the earth when you reach its very centre,
the place where gold is found, the place where iron is found,
and where the volcanoes live that roar and spit out fire.
I know about the depths of the sea where the fish were born,
I know what makes a tree grow and what makes the whistling winds –
things that white men haven't heard of this poor black man knows.
When they pull my rope, I pull likewise, when they slacken I slacken too.*
You'll get what you want, don't you worry, anyone who invites me to sing --
to find out whether someone's lame the best way is to watch them run.
And if I'm doing wrong coming to this gathering
to set myself up as a singer, I'll ask your pardon out aloud –
because you never find one fault without a worse one being there too.
There's always some profit to be got from what a singer has to say,
and he ought to be given a hearing even if it's a black man whosings –
if people are ignorant, they can learn, and if they're wise, learn some more.
Beneath even the blackest forehead there are thoughts and there is life.
Listen quietly to me, people, don't reproach me for anything –
the night is black, also, and it has stars that shine.
So, then, I'm at your service and you can start sounding me out
if you'd like me to give you answers even though it's in a rough kind of speech –
as for learning, I don't know even the J because it's round.*
Martin Fierro
Ah, black man, if you're so wise you've no need to hesitate.
But you've swallowed the hook -- and so keeping up your accompaniment
you're to tell me directly what is the song of the Sky.
El Negro
They say it was of my colour that God made the first man,
but the high-and-mighty white men -- the same as invite him to sing –
don't even remember to give him a name and only call him black.
The white men paint the devil black and the black men paint him white,
but if the face is white or inky doesn't speak for or against –
when he made man, the Creator didn't make two different kinds.
And having given this warning, which comes in place just now,
I'll see, Sirs, if I'm able from the little that I know
to answer to you clearly what is the song of the Sky.
Even in the greatest silence the heavens weep and sing.
They weep as the dew falls, they sing as the winds blow,
they weep when the rains fall, and they sing when the thunder roars.
Martin Fierro
God made both white and black men and he didn't say one was better.
He sent them the same sorrows beneath one and the same cross –
but he made light, also, to tell the difference between colours.
So nobody need feel injured, there's no call to take offence;
everything has to be called by the name that belongs to it,
and there's no disgrace to anyone in what he received at birth.
And that's why I like a singer who won't get worried or miss the mark ...
And if your wisdom includes in it what the deepest of wise men know,
then tell me what in the world is the song of the Earth.
El Negro
The thoughts I have are poor ones and I've scanty reasoning,
but when it comes to giving a reply my ignorance won't hold me back –
even a stone will give out sparks if it's struck by the steel.
And I'll give you an answer from my small abilities.
A song in the Earth is formed by so many mothers' pains:
the groans of people who are dying and the crying of those who are born.
Martin Fierro
Negro, I can tell you've brought us a voice that's in good shape.
You're a true man, and I'm not surprised to see you doing so well –
among singing-birds, it a only the male who's the one with song.
And since you came into the world with a destiny to sing,
don't let yourself get worried, don't act too big or too small ...
What you've got to do now is explain to me what is the song of the Sea.
El Negro
Nobody claims to imitate the voice of the singing-birds,
and no one ought to boast of a gift that comes from another's hand –
because the magpie learns to speak but only the female learns.*
So come and help me win this challenge, all my ingenuity.
It costs me plenty to answer, but answer it I must ...
In my reply I'll tell you what is the song of the Sea.
When the storms are raging the Sea which encloses all things
has a song that terrifies you as if the whole world shook --
it seems that it's complaining of the way the earth squeezes it.
Martin Fierro
This time you'll need to show us all the wisdom you've got:
your only chance of winning is if you're in league with a saint ...
There is a song the Night has and you're to tell me what it is.
El Negro
As the cautious man said to the bold one, Don't gallop, there's holes in the ground –
I'll answer you in a humble way -- the Night has for its song
those noises you hear without knowing where it is that they come from.
They are the secret mysteries that are hidden by the dark,
they are the echoes that answer back your voice if you shout aloud,
like an endless lamentation that comes from I don't know where.
Only the Sun can penetrate the shadows and conquer them:
from different directions mysterious sounds are heard –
they are the souls of those that have died who are asking us for prayers.*
Martin Fierro
Black man, by these replies of yours I'm sizing you up already,
because you've a talent for singing and you're learned on top of that –
when you're giving an explanation even shades don't pass you by.
But an honest man does his duty by saying things he's certain of,
and on that score I'll warn you that we two are here to sing --
and in the peace of God we'll leave the souls of those who are dead.
And the good advice of the cautious man isn't needed in this game,
because the words of a singer are always carefully weighed ...
And now I'd like you to tell me where it is that Love is born.
El Negro
To such an obscure question I'll do my best to reply,
although it's a lot to expect from a poor black cattle‑hand –
but the beginning of wisdom is to know your own ignorance.
The bird loves in the skies that he moves through wherever he will,
and, at the end of his flight, if he perches on a bough
he'll call with his happy song to his loving companion.
The wild beast loves in his lair where he is king and lord,
it's there he sends out so furiously those terrible roars of his –
because the wild beasts don't sing of it, the wild beasts roar of love.
The fish with its pretty colours loves at the bottom of the sea,
and men love fiercely -- all things love that are alive --
it's from God that life is given and wherever there's life there's love.
Martin Fierro
You're a smart one, darky, and I like what you've just explained.
I'm beginning to respect you though I laughed at you at first ...
And now I want to ask you what you understand by the Law.
El Negro
There's a great deal of learning that I'm not able to reach...
Ever since I learnt to be ignorant I'm not surprised at what anyone knows –
but no one who invites me to sing is going to find me a light weight.