Archive for the ‘Roberto Goyeneche’ Tag

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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Los cosos de al lao   Leave a comment

LOS COSOS DE AL LAO
The people next door
LYRICS by: Jose Canet
MUSIC by: Marcos Larrosa
TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz
Last updated on: 1/10/13
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Sing along with ROBERTO GOYENECHE with NESTOR MARCONI

CASTELLANO
ENGLISH
Sollozaron los violines,
los fueyes se estremecieron,
y en la noche se perdieron
los acordes de un gotán.
Un botón que toca ronda
pa’ no quedarse dormido
y un galán que está escondido
chamuyando en un zaguán.

De pronto se escucha
el rumor de una orquesta,
es que están de fiesta
los cosos de al lao.
¡Ha vuelto la piba
que un día se fuera
cuando no tenía
quince primaveras!
¡Hoy tiene un purrete…
y lo han bautizao!
Por eso es que bailan
los cosos de al lao.

Ya las luces se apagaron,
el barrio se despereza,
la noche con su tristeza
el olivo se ha tomao.
Los obreros rumbo al yugo
como todas las mañanas,
mientras que hablando macanas
pasa un tipo encurdelao.

De pronto se escucha
el rumor de una orquesta,
es que están de fiesta
los cosos de al lao.
¡Ha vuelto la piba
que un día se fuera
cuando no tenía
quince primaveras!
¡Hoy tiene un purrete…
y lo han bautizao!
Por eso es que bailan
los cosos de al lao.

The violins sobbed
The bandoneons shivered,
And in the night got lost
The chords of gotan (tango).
A cop that makes the rounds
Trying not to fall asleep
And a beau who is hiding
Sweet talking in a hallway.

Suddenly it’s heard
the sound of an orchestra,
they’re having a party
the people next door.
The kid is back
who one day run away
when she was
barely fifteen!
Today she has a baby…
and they’ve baptized him!
That’s why they dance
the people next door.

The lights already went out,
The neighborhood stretches,
The night with its sadness
has gone.
The workers head for their jobs
like every morning,
while babbling non sense
a drunkard is passing by.

Suddenly it’s heard
the sound of an orchestra,
they’re having a party
the people next door.
The kid is back
who one day run away
when she was
barely fifteen!
Today she has a baby…
and they’ve baptized him!
That’s why they dance
the people next door.

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

Barrio de tango   Leave a comment

BARRIO DE TANGO
Neighborhood of tango (1942)
LYRICS by: Homero Manzi
MUSIC by: Anibal Troilo
TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz
Last updated on: 12/30/11
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Sing along with ROBERTO GOYENECHE with ORQUESTA ANIBAL TROILO

CASTELLANO
ENGLISH
Un pedazo de barrio, allá en Pompeya,
durmiéndose al costado del terraplén.
Un farol balanceando en la barrera
y el misterio de adiós que siembra el tren.
Un ladrido de perros a la luna.
El amor escondido en un portón.
Y los sapos redoblando en la laguna
y a lo lejos la voz del bandoneón.

Barrio de tango, luna y misterio,
calles lejanas, ¡cómo estarán!
Viejos amigos que hoy ni recuerdo,
¡qué se habrán hecho, dónde estarán!
Barrio de tango, qué fue de aquella,
Juana, la rubia, que tanto amé.
¡Sabrá que sufro, pensando en ella,
desde la tarde que la dejé!
Barrio de tango, luna y misterio,
¡desde el recuerdo te vuelvo a ver!

Un coro de silbidos allá en la esquina.
El codillo llenando el almacén.
Y el dramón de la pálida vecina
que ya nunca salió a mirar el tren.
Así evoco tus noches, barrio tango,
con las chatas entrando al corralón
y la luna chapaleando sobre el fango
y a lo lejos la voz del bandoneón.

Barrio de tango, luna y misterio,
calles lejanas, ¡cómo estarán!
Viejos amigos que hoy ni recuerdo,
¡qué se habrán hecho, dónde estarán!
Barrio de tango, qué fue de aquella,
Juana, la rubia, que tanto amé.
¡Sabrá que sufro, pensando en ella,
desde la tarde que la dejé!
Barrio de tango, luna y misterio,
¡desde el recuerdo te vuelvo a ver!

A piece of the neighborhood, back in Pompeya
asleep on the side of the embankment.
A lantern swinging in the barrier
and the mystery of goodbye that seeds the train .
Dogs barking at the moon.
Love hiding in a doorway.
And stepping frogs in the pond
And at the distance the voice of the bandoneon.

Neighborhood of tango, moon and mystery
distant streets, how they will be!
Old friends I don’t even remember now,
Whatever happened to them, where they will be!
Neighborhood of tango, what happened to that one ,
Juana, the blonde, I loved so much.
Will she know that I suffer, thinking of her,
since the afternoon I left her!
Neighborhood of tango, moon and mystery
From the memory I see you again!

A chorus of whistles back in the corner.
The card game filling the store.
And the melodrama of the pale neighbor
that she never came out to watch the train.
So I recall your nights, neighborhood tango,
with the carts entering the warehouse
and the moon wallowing in the mud
and at the distance the voice of the bandoneon.

Neighborhood of tango, moon and mystery
distant streets, how they will be!
Old friends I don’t even remember now,
Whatever happened to them, where they will be!
Neighborhood of tango, what happened to that one ,
Juana, the blonde, I loved so much.
Will she know that I suffer, thinking of her,
since the afternoon I left her!
Neighborhood of tango, moon and mystery
From the memory I see you again!


Copyright (c) Planet Tango 1998-2011 All Rights Reserved

Cafetin de Buenos Aires   Leave a comment

CAFETIN DE BUENOS AIRES
Small tavern of Buenos Aires (1948)
LYRICS by: Enrique Santos Discepolo
MUSIC by: Mariano Mores
TRANSLATION by: Ramon Peñalva
Last updated on: 12/25/11
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Sing along with ROBERTO GOYENECHE with ORQUESTA TIPICA PORTENA

A “cafetín” was a small tavern, in the first half of this century. It was the place where the younger and older generations met and developed a tight relationship. Youngsters could learn all those lessons not taught at home and a kind of dismal philosophy about life. All this changed during and after the ’60’s and those places slowly disappeared from the urban scene. First stanza: A “cafetín” was a males only place so it was off limits to women and children. The author remembers when as a child he thought it never would come the time when he could get in. It mentions a melancholic sentiment equating the cold of the windowpane with his actual feelings and recognize the “cafetín” as the teacher of several things, good and bad, that helped him to grow up. Second stanza: Now there is a claim of not forgetting this place that was so much alike his mother, a perpetual harbor from all pains and dangers of the world. Then a description of the strange mix of customers and what he learned from them. Third stanza: Finally he remembers the bunch of buddies he found between those walls and recalls several of them, falling again in a melancholic mood bringing to memory some sad moments in life and his final sense of failure.
CASTELLANO
ENGLISH
De chiquilín te miraba de afuera (1)
como a esas cosas que nunca se alcanzan,
la ñata contra el vidrio, (2)
en un azul de frío
que sólo fue después viviendo
igual que el mío.
Como una escuela de todas las cosas,
ya de muchacho me diste entre asombro
el cigarrillo…
la fe de mis sueños
y una esperanza de amor.

¿Cómo olvidarte en esta queja,
cafetín de Buenos Aires?
Si sos lo único en la vida
que se pareció a mi vieja. (3)
En tu mezcla milagrosa
de sabihondos y suicidas
yo aprendí filosofía… dados… timba (4)
y la poesía cruel
de no pensar más en mi…

Me diste en oro un puñado de amigos,
que son los mismos que alientan mis horas;
José el de la quimera,
Marcial que aún cree y espera
y el flaco Abel… que se nos fue,
pero aún me guía.
Sobre tus mesas que nunca preguntan
Lloré una tarde el primer desengaño.
Nací a las penas,
bebí mis años,
y me entregué sin luchar.

In my childhood I stared at you
as those things I would never possess
the nose against your window
in an iced blue feeling
that only later, living,
was the same in my soul.
As a school that teaches all things,
in my youth you gave me in wonder
a good smoke…
a faith in my dreams
and a hope for love.

How can I forget you in my lament
“cafetín de Buenos Aires”?
If you are the only one in life
who resembled my mother.
In your strange association
of smart guys and self-killers
I learned philosophy… dice… gamble
and the bitter poetry
of not to think of myself.

You gave me in gold a fistful of friends
the same who cheer my life and my hours
José the one with dreams
Marcial who still believes and hopes
and skinny Abel… who’s gone
but still he guides me.
On your tables that never ask questions
I wept some day my first disillusion
I knew of pains,
I drank my years
And I gave up with no fight.


GLOSSARY:
(1) Chiquilín (diminutive) from “Chico” = small boy, kid
(2) Ñata (f) (colloquial) from “Ñato”(m): pug-nosed or flat-nosed = the nose.
(3) Vieja (coll) literal: old woman = mother
(4) Timba (coll) = the action of gambling

Copyright (c) Planet Tango 1998-2011 All Rights Reserved

Previous Post   Leave a comment


Updated 9/6/10

LOS COSOS DE AL LADO
The folks next door (1954)
LYRICS by: Jose Canet
MUSIC by: Marcos Larrosa
TRANSLATION by: Adrian Ocneanu
Last updated on: 5/15/10
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Sing along with Roberto Goyeneche with Orquesta Nestor Marconi
Comments
CASTELLANO
ENGLISH
Sollozaron los violines,
los fueyes se estremecieron,
y en la noche se perdieron
los acordes de un gotán.
Un botón que toca ronda
pa’ no quedarse dormido
y un galán que está escondido
chamuyando en un zaguán.

De pronto se escucha
el rumor de una orquesta,
es que están de fiesta
los cosos de al lao.
¡Ha vuelto la piba
que un día se fuera
cuando no tenía
quince primaveras!
¡Hoy tiene un purrete…
y lo han bautizao!
Por eso es que bailan
los cosos de al lao.

Ya las luces se apagaron,
el barrio se despereza,
la noche con su tristeza
el olivo se ha tomao.
Los obreros rumbo al yugo
como todas las mañanas,
mientras que hablando macanas
pasa un tipo encurdelao.

The violins sobbed,
the bellows stretched
and in the night died out
the chords of a tango.
A cop that makes a round
to keep from falling asleep,
and a dandy who is hidden
sweet talking in a hallway.

Suddenly one hears
the sounds of an orchestra:
they are having a party
the folks next door
There came back the girl
who left one day
when she didn’t have
fifteen springs yet.
Now she’s got a baby
and they baptized him.
That’s why they’re dancing,
the folks next door.

The lights are already out,
the neighborhood stretches.
The night with its sadness
took its leave.
Workers head for their yokes
like every morning,
while, talking nonsense,
a drunkard goes by.

Copyright (c) Planet Tango 1998-2010 All Rights Reserved