📚The Curruchá📖
I love my black woman, I love her more than the price on my foot
I love my black woman, I love her more than the jar when I am thirsty
I love my black woman, I love her more than my chinchorro who makes me dream
More than the penny sorrel that kicking in town a thousand times has made me win.
When my black woman dances a joropo, love taps inside me
To the beat of the toe and heel, to the beat of an endless quirpa
With such grace he shakes his hip, alas! my black that makes me lose my mind
Curruchá, with such grace she shakes her hip, alas! my black that makes me lose my mind.
When I see my black girl in the eyes, she turns redder than the Paraguayan
Whose flower is fire in the forest, bee heart, honeycomb liquor
If I touch her at the dance, an immense heat rises to my neck
Well, my black woman is a sugar mill on a stove that lights my log of love in ashes🌼🌸🌺☘️🌹🌷💐🌻🥀
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