EL CIRUJA

The ‘surgeon’ (1926)

LYRICS by: Alfredo Marino

MUSIC by: Ernesto de la Cruz

TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz

Last updated on: 11/18/13

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Sing along with EDMUNDO RIVERO

When you thought that your Spanish was good enough to add that touch of authenticity to your tanguero personality, somebody with connections dropped the word “lunfardo” in between sips from a silver metal straw, similar to the one Pablo Veron was sucking from when he first received Sally Potter at his Parissian pad. ‘Lunwhat’ you said? Then you got this academic explanation about secret languages used by lawyers, medical doctors, engineers, and how the scoundrels of early Buenos Aires also had their own secret language. Now you not only have to deal with the cliche about the pimp and the prostitute, but you may have to put up with some creep muttering strange words with an air of importance.Relax, the only connections that the guy has, are a modem and a Company provided e-mail address. Tango passion is not a substitute for good sanitary practices, so also forget about sucking the mate brew from the communal metal straw. If the bacteria doesn’t get you, the laxative effects of the green concoction will.Take what Tango brings to you in stride and accept the fact that it has taken over one hundred years of evolution for the music, the poetry and the dance to reach us at this stage of our lives. It does not matter what others do or have done before. Nobody can really improve their dancing by pretending to be someone else. What counts is your own experience, how you live your life and how the Tango is now part of it. This had been the subject of a conversation with La Mariposa a.k.a. Valorie, as we were cruising along I-5 through the San Joaquin Valley in California on a scorching August afternoon. This is the fastest way between Northern and Southern California, and it is also the gateway that connects you via I-10 to Phoenix, Tucson, El Paso, San Antonio, Houston and New Orleans. We had done the trek upand down I-5 many times passing the time and watching the straight line of asphalt dissapear as far as the eyes can see. CD after CD was being popped in and out of the car stereo by the best DJ on wheels any man can hope for. She has a knack for picking out the right set to go along with the scenery and the time of the day. Rodolfo Biagi in the early hours of the morning when the eyes sneak in a few treacheous winks after an all night ride. Osvaldo Pugliese in the middle of the night under a star studded sky bathed in a milky mist by a silver dollar size full moon, as the Joshua trees of the Arizona desert wave their petrified salute. Carlos Di Sarli early in the evening, when local commuters slow down our pace unaware of our eagerness to get swiftly to wherever it is that our Tango travels take us. But I digress… Long car trips have given us the opportunity to catch up with the music we haven’t had the chance to listen to for a long time. Such was the case one evening when the thundering voice of Edmundo Rivero filled the air with the quintessential lunfardo lyrics of El ciruja. “What does ‘ciruja’ mean?” she asked. A couple of hours later she was still writing the story of The Surgeon after having listened to Rivero countless times while I tried to interpret the lunfardo content of the lyrics into a context of English that even Lucy Ricardo would understand. For inquisitive minds, there is a Lunfardo Dictionary written by Jose Gobello, who is the founder and president of the Lunfardo Academy in Buenos Aires. I have used it for many years because contrary to popular belief most Argentines of my generation only picked up a few words of lunfardo here and there as we grew up on the streets of the city. The language originated as a fusion between the dialects brought to Buenos Aires by the rogue elements from all over Europe, and a code of words used by thieves and criminals in jail in order to confuse the guards. With the passing of time new generations of tenement inhabitants incorporated a characteristic dialect which became the unofficial language of the slums. For the cultural elite, lunfardo represented the idiom of the uneducated and the lower class. In spite of all their prejudice, popular theater plays, known generally as sainetes, the circus and the encounters of the rich and well-to-do with the populace at seedy bars and brothels, began a steady migration of lunfardo words into the mainstream of popular jargon. In 1917 Pascual Contursi wrote some verses for a melody already in existence. The music had been around for a while under the name of Lita composed by Samuel Castriota. Contursi’s ironic account of a sappy pimp in love bleeding over the flight of a whore began with the lunfardo expression, “Percanta que me amuraste…” (Woman who abandoned me…) They say that Gardel fell in love with the song, risked his reputation as a Creole Crooner, and going against sound advice, he presented it it on stage under the name of Mi noche triste. It was the beginning of a new era for the Tango. Tango lyrics had arrived. For years to come, popular bards burned the midnight oil pouring out chronicles of love, hate, pain and sorrow. A fledging middle class just loved the vocals which somehow reflected their own lives. Everybody could identify with infidelity, treason, broken hearts, blind ambition and revenge. In 1926, Alfredo Marino had the brilliant inspiration of writing the lyrics of a Tango with a heavy lunfardo content. It has become the quintessential lunfardo Tango lyric. The story is very simple and predictable, but the talent of Marino has made El ciruja a classic. The word ‘ciruja’ at first brings the image of a hobo, a vagrant, a scavenger, and that is what probably our friend with the connections would try to impress you with, but the truth is that Marino uses a pure lunfardo expression to nickname his protagonist, the surgeon, because of his knack for the handling of the blade. Not only does he call him the surgeon, but he uses a shortened version of the actual Spanish word ‘cirujano,’ ciruja.

CASTELLANO

ENGLISH

Como con bronca y junando de rabo de ojo a un costado, sus pasos ha encamindo derecho pa’l arrabal. Lo lleva el presentimiento de que en aquel potrerito no existe ya el bulincito que fue su unico ideal.Recordaba aquellas horas de garufa cuando minga de laburo se pasaba, meta punga al codillo escolaseaba y en los burros se ligaba un metejon. Cuando no era tan junao por los tiras la lanceaba sin tener el manyamiento, una mina le solfeaba todo el vento y jugo con su pasion. Era un mosaico diquero que yugaba de quemera, hija de una curandera, mechera de profesion. Pero vivia engrupida de un cafiolo vidalita y le pasaba la guita que le chacaba al maton. Frente a frente dando muestra de coraje los dos guapos se trenzaron en el bajo, y el Ciruja, que era listo para el tajo, al cafiolo le cobro caro su amor. Hoy ya libre ‘e la gayola y sin la mina campaneando un cacho ‘e sol en la vereda, piensa un rato en el amor de la quemera y solloza en su dolor.

Appearing “angry” and “looking” through the side of his eyes he has directed his steps straight for the slum. He just knew what was going to happen his intuition took him to that place, to that vacant lot, where he just knew his little shack, his ideal little place, no longer existed.He remembered those hours of great parties when “lacking” “work,” he spent his time “pickpocketing” and “playing cards” and he had a passion for the “ponies.” When he was not “well known” by the “cops” he could “rob at knife point” without “knowing” that a “girl” was “robbing” all the “money” from him and toyed with his love. She was a “common woman” with “airs of grandeur” that “toiled” around as a “burning dump scavenger” she was the daughter of a quack woman, “shoplifter” by trade. But she was “deluded” by a pimp of long standing who’s got all the dough that the bully spent on her. Face to face showing big courage the two brawlers crossed knives in the dark the Ciruja who was fast with the knife made the pimp pay too dearly his love. Out of jail now and with no maiden staring at the sun on the sidewalk thinks awhile in the girl’s love and sobs in his pain.

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

LO HAN VISTO CON OTRA

They’ve seen him with someone else (1928)

LYRICS by: Horacio Pettorossi

MUSIC by: Horacio Pettorossi

TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz

Last updated on: 1/6/12

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Sing along with EDMUNDO RIVERO with ORQUESTA HORACIO SALGAN

Requested by Juan from Switzerland. “Te agradezco anticipadamente y te felicito por el maravilloso trabajo que hacen, para poder compartir con argentinos por el mundo amantes del tango. Saludos, Juan”

CASTELLANO

ENGLISH

Lo han visto con otra, te han dicho esta tarde lo han visto con otra, con otra mujer, Que no lo querias hacias alarde mas hoy confesabas tu hondo querer. Ya ves vecinita, lo ingrata que has sido ayer te burlabas de su pobre amor pero hoy una amiga te ha dicho al oido: “Lo he visto con otra”, y lloras de dolor. Tango, tango, vos que fuiste el amigo confidente de su amor. Tango, tango, hoy precisa de tu ayuda para calmar su dolor Tango, tango, vos que estas en todas partes esta noche es la ocasion de que llegue hasta su reja el eco de una queja de un triste bandoneon Yo tengo una pena que llevo en el alma por una perversa que no se olvidar sus ojos muy negros robaron mi calma y sufro en silencio yo no se llorar Ya ves yo no tengo tampoco alegrias, por eso me apena el verte sufrir, tambien en mis noches muy tristes y frias las horas son largas, no puedo dormir.

They’ve seen him with someone else, they told you this afternoon they’ve seen him with someone else, with another woman, That you didn’t love him, you had been boasting but now you confessed your deep love. So you see, little neighbor, how ungrateful you’ve been Yesterday you mocked his poor love but today a friend has told you in the ear: “They have seen him with another woman,” and you cry from the pain. Tango, tango, you who were the friend confident of his love. Tango, tango, today she needs your help to sooth her pain. Tango, tango, you who are everywhere tonight is the occasion that it come into her gate the echo of a moaning of a sad bandoneon. I have a pain that I carry in my soul for a perverse one that I didn’t know how to forget her very black eyes stole my calm and I suffer in silence and I do not how to cry You see I have no joys either, that’s why I’m sorry to see you suffer, also in my nights very sad and cold the hours are long, I can not sleep.

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Copyright (c) Planet Tango 1998-2012 All Rights Reserved

SUR

South (1948)

LYRICS by: Homero Manzi

MUSIC by: Anibal Troilo

TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz

Last updated on: 8/13/12

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Sing along with EDMUNDO RIVERO with ANIBAL TROILO

The corner of San Juan and Boedo Avenues, is an intersection made famous by Homero Manzi in his tango Sur. An act of Congress in 1995 that declared the bar at that location an area of historical Interest. That is why the exterior of the building has been preserved as is. In 2000 the bar was renamed Homero Manzi. The lyrics of the tango evoke the younger years of Homero Manzi first living with his parents near San Juan and Boedo and later being a pupil at a school in the neighborhood of Pompeya. With his verses, Manzi links the two neighborhood in a romantic image of a time that is part of his memories.

CASTELLANO

ENGLISH

San Juan y Boedo antigua y todo el cielo, Pompeya y, mas alla, la inundacion, tu melena de novia en el recuerdo, y tu nombre flotando en el adios… La esquina del herrero barro y pampa, tu casa, tu vereda y el zanjon y un perfume de yuyos y de alfalfa que me llena de nuevo el corazon. Sur… paredon y despues… Sur… una luz de almacen… Ya nunca me veras como me vieras, recostado en la vidriera y esperandote, ya nunca alumbrare con las estrellas nuestra marcha sin querellas por las noches de Pompeya. Las calles y las lunas suburbanas y mi amor en tu ventana todo ha muerto, ya lo se. San Juan y Boedo antigua, cielo perdido, Pompeya y, al llegar al terraplen, tus veinte años temblando de cariño bajo el beso que entonces te robe. Nostalgia de las cosas que han pasado, arena que la vida se llevo, pesadumbte del barrio que ha cambiado y amargura del sueño que murio.

Old San Juan and Boedo street corner, the whole sky Pompeya and farther down, the floods Your bride’s loose hair in my memory and your name floating in the farewell The blacksmith’s corner, mud and pampa, your house, your sidewalk, and the deep ditch and a scent of weeds and of alfalfa that fills my heart all over again. South, a large wall and then… South, a light from a general store… You’ll never see me again, like you saw me, reclined on the glass window and waiting for you. I’ll never illuminate with the stars our walk without quarrels on the evenings of Pompeya… The streets and the suburban moons, and my love on your window, all is dead, I know it… Old San Juan and Boedo street corner, lost sky, Pompeya and reaching the embankment, your twenty years trembling with affection under the kiss I then stole from you. Nostalgia of things that have past, sand that life swept away, sorrow of the barrio that have changed, and bitterness of a dream that died.

Copyright (c) Planet Tango 1998-2012 All Rights Reserved