Archive for the ‘Jose de Grandis’ Category

Amurado   Leave a comment

Abandoned (1927)
LYRICS by: Jose de Grandis
MUSIC by: Pedro Maffia and Pedro Laurenz
TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz
Last updated on: 10/15/11
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Violinist Jose de Grandis handed the verses of AMURADO (Abandoned) to Pedro Laurenz in 1925 one evening at a cafe where Grandis played and Laurenz liked to hang out.

Right there and then, Pedro Laurenz, master bandoneonist of the De Caro orchestra created the music for the first part of the tango that would become one of his greatest hits.

He later showed it to Pedro Maffia, the other Pedro of the celebrated bandoneon duo that formed part of one of the earliest sextets of Julio de Caro. Maffia, completed the musical theme adding the inimitable solo which Laurenz so masterfully plays at the end.

This is pure tango essence at its best.

Campaneo a mi catrera y la encuentro desolada;
solo tengo de recuerdo el cuadrito que esta ahi;
pilchas viejas, unas flores y mi alma atormentada,
eso es todo lo que queda desde que se fue de aqui.

Una tarde más tristona que la pena que me aqueja,
arreglo su bagayito y amurado me dejo.
No le dije una palabra, ni un reproche, ni una queja,
la mire que se alejaba y pense… Todo acabo!

Si me viera estoy tan viejo,
tengo blanca la cabeza,
sera acaso la tristeza
de mi negra soledad?
O sera porque me cruzan
tan fuleros berretines
de andar por los cafétines
a buscar felicidad…

Bulincito que conoces mis amargas desventuras,
no te extrañes que hable solo… que es tan grande mi dolor!
Si me faltan sus caricias, sus consuelos, sus ternuras,
que me queda ya a mis años si mi vida esta en su amor?

Cuantas noches voy vagando, angustiado, silencioso,
recordando mi pasado con mi amiga la ilusion;
voy en curda, no lo niego, que sera muy vergonzoso,
pero llevo más en curda a mi pobre corazón.

I take a look at my bed and I find it distressed;
I only have as a memento that little portrait over there,
old clothes, some flowers and my tortured soul;
that’s all I got left since she walked out of here.

One afternoon, more melancholic that the grief that afflicts me,
she packed her things and she left me abandoned.
I didn’t say to her a single word, not a reproach, not even a grudge,
I saw her going away and I thought… it’s all over!

If she would see me I’m so old,
I have white hair on my head,
could it be, perhaps, the sadness
of my black loneliness?
Or it could be because I get
such pitiful illusions
of walking into small cafes
in search of happiness…

Little room that knows about my bitter misfortunes,
don’t be surprised that I talk to myself… my pain is so large!
If I’m lacking her caresses, her solace, her tenderness,
what’s left at my age if my life is in her love?

How many nights I’m wandering, anguished, silent,
remembering my past with my friend the illusion;
that I’m drunk, I don’t deny it, that will be very shameful,
but I carry more inebriated my poor heart.

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