MADAME YVONNE

Madam Yvonne (1933)

LYRICS by: Enrique Cadicamo

MUSIC by: Eduardo Pereyra

TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz

Last updated on: 2/15/12

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Sing along with JULIO SOSA with LEOPOLDO FEDERICO

Julio Sosa’s rendition of Madam Yvonne is the best to my taste. The late Uruguayan singer wrote the recited verses that serve as an introduction to the tango. The word “mamuasel” is a phonetic replication in Argentine jargon of the original “madmoiselle.” He substituted “Les Quatre Arts” for “aquel boulevard” (that boulevard). Also, in the 7th verse he sings “Until one day an Argentine man arrived”.

CASTELLANO

ENGLISH

RECITADO Ivonne, yo te conocí allá en el viejo Montmartre, cuando el cascabel de plata de tu risa era un refugio para nuestra bohemia y tu cansancio y tu anemia no se dibujaban aun detrás de tus ojeras violetas. Yo te conocí cuando el amor te iluminaba por dentro y te adoré de lejos, sin que lo supieras y sin pensar que confesándote este amor podría haberte salvado. Te conocí cuando era yo un estudiante de bolsillo flacos y el París nocturno de entonces danzaba al espacio en una cascada de luces el efímero reinado de un nombre, Mademoiselle Ivonne… FIN RECITADO Mamuasel Ivonne era una pebeta que en el barrio posta de viejo Montmartre, con su pinta brava de alegre griseta animó la fiesta de Les Quatre Arts. Era la papusa del barrio latino que supo a los puntos del verso inspirar… Pero fue que un día llego un argentino y a la francesita la hizo suspirar. Madame Ivonne, la Cruz del Sur fue como el sino, Madame Ivonne, fue como el sino de tu suerte… Alondra gris, tu dolor me conmueve, tu pena es de nieve… Madame Ivonne… Han pasado diez años que zarpó de Francia, Mamuasel Ivonne hoy solo es Madam… La que va a ver que todo quedó en la distancia con ojos muy tristes bebe su champán. Ya no es la papusa del Barrio Latino, ya no es la mistonga florcita de lis, ya nada le queda… Ni aquel argentino que entre tango y mate la alzó de París

RECITED Yvonne I met you back in the old Montmartre, when the silver bell of your laughter was a haven for our Bohemia and your tiredness and your anemia were not drawn behind your dark circles violets yet. I knew you when love lit you from inside and I worshiped you from afar, without you knowing and without thinking that confessing this love I could have saved you. I knew you when I was a student of lean pockets and the Paris night back then danced into space in a cascade of lights the brief reign of a name, Mademoiselle Yvonne … END RECITED Yvonne was a young girl that in the choice district of old Montmartre, with her blustery elegance of happy streetwalker animated the partying at Les Quatre Arts. She was the pretty thing of the Latin quarter who used to inspire the verse writers… But it was that one day, an Argentine man arrived and to the little French girl he made her sigh. Madame Ivonne, the Southern Cross was like the destiny, Madame Ivonne, was as the destiny of your luck … Skylark gray Your pain moves me, Your sorrow is of snow … Madame Ivonne … It has been ten years since she sailed from France, Mamuasel Ivonne today is only Madam … Who sees everything long way away at a distance with very sad eyes she drinks her champagne. She is no longer the pretty thing of the Latin Quarter, she no longer is the humble lily flower, She has nothing is left … Nor even that Argentine man who between tango and green tea lifted her from Paris

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