The huasteca is in mourning
Their huapanguero died
You can no longer hear that falsetto
What is the soul of the trovero
Rogaciano was called
Rogaciano the huapanguero
And they were sounds of the mountains
The songs of the trovero
La Azucena and la Cecilia
They cry, they cry without consolation
Malagueña Salerosa
His crier has already left
The canal is at its peak
Today the milling begins
The mill is in mourning
And he sighs at every turn
Through the green coffee plantations
Beyond that pasture
There are those who say that at night
The huapanguero appears
The Azucena and Cecilia
They cry, they cry without consolation
Malagueña Salerosa
Their huapanguero has already left

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