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Voices of my earth teaching Guarani el Carau


2 years agoSteemit5 min read


This is a sad story of my land, is worthy of being told by the teaching that has background, stories like these there are lots, teachings that were leaving our ancestors to help be a little better.


The Caraû, is a bird well known here in my land gave rise to a beautiful legend.
The story tells of a very humble family, lived in the countryside, places where civilization never arrived, people accustomed to the theories of the field, there was no clock, this was calculated by the height of the sun and shadow on the ground floor, no There are lighthouses, candlelight, creek water, wood-burning stove, charcoal iron, medicine only the home made of natural yuyos, if that does not make the people of the field lose their lives.
In this situation, this family lived to make matters worse. The father of the family had died, leaving the mother alone with a young man named Carau, about 18 years old, fresh from the shell with a life ahead, a good-looking young man, those Sun-tanned moroccos of deep blue gringos eyes, those who are capable of guineas to stop and turn to look.
To bad luck of this boy the mother became ill, as the country custom was attended with homemade medicine, have been passing the days and the medicine does not arise the desired effects, the boy understands that if he wants to save his mother he must leave for the capital In search of a clinical remedy.
The boy left for the capital, but for his misfortune on the way he met a dancer, the mysterious music caught his attention, tempted by the rhythm of the chameleon he began to dance, he met a beautiful guaina I invite him to dance, I dance and I danced all night, I was so excited about the guaina and the call me that I forgot his sick mother.
When the caravan was dancing, a friend approached him and said, I come to tell you my friend to stop dancing with the pain in your soul I tell you, your mother is dead, he looks at his friend and I answer him.
What died and died, the dance I do not have to leave, there is time to cry, this comment surprised the inhabitants, this answer was an unknown behavior of the chicho, a very responsible person, home very close to his mother, said this continued with The dance, until dawn.
I invite the lady with whom I dance all night to continue the party in another place, she replied that the night is over, that she goes to her house that has the body of her mother to cry, there I come to reason and went To his house, arrived found the dead body of his mother and proceeded to the burial of the body, once buried his mother realized his loss, began to cry, wept and crying disconsolate, road disoriented by the woods and marshes of the place crying And crying without ceasing.
The Tupa punishment to the carau that prodigal son who preferred the pleasures of life before the life of his mother, turned him into a black bird of mourning and I condemn him to cry, hence his song of lament that says Caraû ... Caraû. .. Caraû ... from that day every day at nightfall, you hear your song of lament Caraû ... Caraû ... Caraû ...


This sad story of my land inspired Don Mario Bofill to compose some lyrics for a beautiful llama

Friends and comrades
That they want to hear me,
I'm going to tell them the event
Which happened to his heart.

Being sick mother
Remedies came to seek,
Found a concurrence
And there he stayed to dance.

Dancing was at the party
With the best guainita,
When a friend approached
And told him in pain ..

Excuse me, my friend.
anive rejeroky
Aru ndeve the news
Omano hague nde sy.

It does not matter, my good friend, the dance I do not have to leave
[Embopu katu la polka]
Yes I love you already
There is time to cry.

Tired at last dancing
And when the dawn had come,
He says to his guanita:
hetaitéma rohayhu
Mamoitepa oime nde róga.

The lady replied:
Che róga oî mombyry
I'm coming back, man.
Ehecha rangue de sy.

Hearing these words
The Karãu said goodbye,
She went crying and saying
My mother died already

Ko ãga katu aháne
To live in the marshes
Ha upépe katu amoîne
Forever whole mourning.

For having been a bad son
Punishment gave him the Tupã
He put on a black plumage
And condemned him to mourn.
Lyrics (Mario Bofill Version): EL CARAU


These are the teachings that were left by our ancestors, to three of their legends to help be a little better, in this case a better son, to value and respect our parents.


I'll wait for you tomorrow to enjoy another account of my land Corrientes.

José Luis Fernández
Corrientes Argentina

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