Archive for the ‘Tres esquinas’ Tag

Tres esquinas   2 comments

Three corners (1940)
LYRICS by: Enrique Cadicamo
MUSIC by: Angel D’Agostino-Alfredo Attadia
TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz
Last updated on: 10/30/12
Return to Index



Arrabal is a poetic representation of the suburbs, or the fringe territory outside the center of the city. According to Jose Gobello, “Tres esquinas” alludes to the crossing of Montes de Oca and Osvaldo Cruz Streets in the neighborhood of Barracas, and to the café called “Tres esquinas”, later “Cabo Fels”, located in that place. The lyric was written by Cadícamo in 1940 for a music previously composed by Ángel D’Agostino (for an unpublished tango entitled “Pobre piba”). It was premiered that year by Ángel Vargas who was the vocalist of the D’Agostino Orchestra.
We are grateful to Richard Norris who contributed valuable corrections and modifications both in style and accuracy. He sought the help of Daniel Korman, director of a language school in Bs.As., as some of the words used by Cadicamo are part of the jargon of the city and not found in the dictionary.
Yo soy del barrio de “Tres Esquinas”,
viejo baluarte del arrabal,
donde florecen como glicinas
las lindas pibas de delantal.
Donde en la noche, tibia y serena,
su antiguo aroma vuelca el malvon
y bajo el cielo de luna llena
duermen las chatas del corralon.

Soy de ese barrio de humilde rango,
yo soy el tango sentimental,
soy de ese barrio que toma mate,
bajo las sombras que da el parral.
En sus ochavas compadree de mozo,
pele la daga por un loco amor,
y vi en los ojos de una maleva
la ardiente ceba de mi pasión.

Nada hay más lindo ni más compadre
Que mi suburbio murmurador,
Con los chimentos de las comadres
Y los piropos del picaflor…
Vieja barriada que fue estandarte
De mis arrojos de juventud,
Yo soy del barrio que vive aparte
En este siglo de Neo-Lux.

I’m from the neighborhood of “Tres Esquinas,”
An old bastion of the arrabal,
Where they bloom like wisterias
The pretty factory girls in uniform.
Where in the night, warm and calm,
The geranium casts its old fashioned aroma
And under a full moon sky
Sleep the horse carriages of the warehouse.

I’m from that neighborhood of humble rank,
I’m the sentimental tango,
I’m from that neighborhood that drinks mate,
Under the shadows cast by the vine arbor.
In its angled corners I blustered as a young man,
I pulled the knife for a crazy love,
And I saw in the eyes of a fiery woman
the burning stoking of my passion.

There’s nothing more beautiful or proud
That my murmuring suburb,
With the gossip from the godmothers
And the compliments of the flirting boy…
Old neighborhood that was a banner
Of the bravery of my youth,
I am from the neighborhood who lives apart
In this age of Neo-Lux

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