La huasteca estã¡ de luto
Se muriã³ su huapanguero.
Ya no se oye aquel falsete
Que es el alma del trovero.
Rogaciano se llamaba
Rogaciano el huapanguero
Y eran sones de la sierra
Las canciones del trovero.
La Azucena y la Cecilia
Lloran, lloran sin consuelo
Malagueña Salerosa
Ya se fue su pregonero.
El cañal estã¡ en su punto
Hoy comienza la molienda
El trapiche estã¡ de duelo
Y suspira en cada vuelta.
Por los verdes cafetales
Mã¡s allã¡ de aquel potrero
Hay quien dice que de noche
Se aparece el huapanguero.
La Azucena y la Cecilia
Lloran, lloran sin consuelo
Malagueña Salerosa
Ya se fue su huapanguero.
Rogaciano
La huasteca* is in mourning
Its huapanguero has died
You can no longer hear that falsetto
Which is the soul of the troubadour.
Rogaciano he was called
Rogaciano the huapanguero*
And they were sones of the sierra
mountains
The songs of the troubadours.
Azucena and Cecilia
Are crying, crying inconsolably
Malagueña Salerosa*
Their bard has gone.
The cane is ready
Today begins the milling
The sugar mill is in mourning
And sighs with each turn.
In the green coffee plantations
Far beyond that pasture
There are those who say that in the
nighttime
The huapanguero appears.
Azucena and Cecilia
Are crying, crying inconsolably
Malagueña Salerosa*
Their bard has left.
*huasteca: a region
huapanguero: a singer of huapangos
