La ultima curda   Leave a comment

LA ULTIMA CURDA
The last drunkenness(1956)
LYRICS by: Catulo Castillo
MUSIC by: Anibal Troilo
TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz
Last updated on: 4/27/13
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Sing along with ROBERTO GOYENECHE with ASTOR PIAZZOLLA

CASTELLANO
ENGLISH
Lastima, bandoneón,
mi corazon
tu ronca maldición maleva…
Tu lágrima de ron
me lleva
hasta el hondo bajo fondo
donde el barro se subleva.
¡Ya sé, no me digás! ¡Tenés razón!
La vida es una herida absurda,
y es todo tan fugaz
que es una curda, ¡nada más!
mi confesión.

Contame tu condena,
decime tu fracaso,
¿no ves la pena
que me ha herido?
Y hablame simplemente
de aquel amor ausente
tras un retazo del olvido.
¡Ya sé que te lastimo!
¡Ya se que te hago daño
llorando mi sermón de vino!

Pero es el viejo amor
que tiembla, bandoneón,
y busca en el licor que aturde,
la curda que al final
termine la función
corriéndole un telón al corazón.
Un poco de recuerdo y sinsabor
gotea tu rezongo lerdo.
Marea tu licor y arrea
la tropilla de la zurda
al volcar la última curda.
Cerrame el ventanal
que arrastra el sol
su lento caracol de sueño,
¿no ves que vengo de un país
que está de olvido, siempre gris,
tras el alcohol?…

Bandoneon, it hurts
my heart
your hoarse transgressor’s curse…
Your tear of rum
leads me
Into the deep low underground
where mud revolts.
I know, don’t tell me! You’re right!
Life is an absurd wound,
and all it’s so fleeting
that is drunkenness, nothing else!
my confession.

Tell me about your sentence,
tell me about your failure,
Don’t you see the sorrow
that has hurt me?
And talk to me plainly
of that absent love
after a piece of forgetfulness.
I know I hurt you!
I know that I harm you
crying my sermon of wine!

But it’s the old love
that shivers, bandoneon,
and looks in the liquor that stuns,
the drunkenness that at the end
end the show
dropping a curtain over the heart.
A little memory and distaste
your dull grumble drips.
Your liquor intoxicates and rustles
the herd of the heart
into the last drunkenness.
Shut the window
that the sun drags
its slow snail of sleep,
Can’t you see I come from a country
that’s forgetful, always gray,
after alcohol? …

Copyright (c) Planet Tango 1998-2013 All Rights Reserved

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