"THE GUITARIST"...To my master Vicent Russo

                                                        "THE GUITARIST"


                                                                     (to my Master Vincent Russo)




          I started discovering the night echoes

the halls of the old Elizabethan London

the hand of John Dowland.


          Then toured the Castilian countryside of Spain,

where I could see the shepherds,

with their gentle flocks,

go to pasture in the foothills,

tinged with melodic chimes of Milan and Narvaez.


          I saw the roofs of the houses ochres,

in hilly and winding rock paths,

fir forests of soft robredales,

I felt a strong breeze and smelling of roses,

in the fields of Thuringia,

with a prelude and fugue by Bach.


          I returned to the slopes of Sierra Morena and Alcaraz,

and I could see the stars,

reflected in its streams,

in a thousand colors,

one for each note of Albeniz and Granados.


          At the time I wrapped a delicious aroma of "Eucalyptus"

and took me for a forgotten way through wheat fields,

gouache and blessed mysteries

with trawls in RE,

a southern style Yupanqui,

and a milonga de Fleury.



          After a quiet morning I was surprised,

walking uphill,

through the cobbled streets of Pelourinho and Nazaré,

watching the sweet domes of Sao Francisco,

and the distance

Our Lord of Bonfim,

as I whispered in the ear,

one after another,

Los Choros by Villa-Lobos and Texeira.


          Oh! Guitarist ...Please! ... do not go,

let my soul keep flying,

bring me the moon bright,

And that woman,

that a warm summer night

in an old neighborhood of Buenos Aires met,

valcesito accompanied by a guitar,

I will never forget.

          Perhaps with Troilo, Piazzolla, Agustín Barrios, Maximo Pujol ...

I do not know.


          Guitarist ... Please do not go,

only ask you not to go,

please ...

  - Daniel Humberto Guasti -