A keresés eredménye

The Ear of Corn

With this tango, which is both sardonic and friendly,
The emotion in my ghetto got two wings.
Tango itself was born from this tango and, like a scream,
It left the sordid slum, looking for the sky...
 
Strange spell of a love that became a cadence
And opened roads, without any other law beyond its hope:
Blend of rage, of pain, of faith and absence
That called out with the innocence
Of a playful rhythm...
 
Thanks to its miracle of pessimistic notes,
Both whores and mistresses were thoughtlessly born

The Little Street Procession

[Spoken:]
Oh tango, you that have hurt me so much
And who, in spite of it all, I love
Because you're the messenger
Of the slums' soul.
I don't know which fatal charm
Have your emotive notes,
But the miserable lair
That is my heart, widens
As if begging for more space
From the pain that dominates my life...
 
If you only knew
That, deep in my soul, I still
Preserve that affection
That I once felt for you.
Who knows? If you only knew
That I've never forgotten you,
Returning to your past,
Would you remember me?
 
My friends don't come around anymore,
Not even to visit me:
Nobody wants to comfort me
In my affliction!
From the day when you left,
I feel such anguish in my chest...
Tell me, my darling: What have you done
To my poor heart?
 
In our abandoned love nest,
Not even the morning sun
Will bother to peek in throught he windows,
As it did when you were there...
 
And that little dog, a companion
That wouldn't eat because of your absence,
Upon seeing me all alone, the other day,
Left as well...
 
And yet,
I always remember you
With the sacred affection
That I felt for you!
Who knows? If you only knew
That I've never forgotten you,
Returning to your past,
Would you remember me?
 

Soldier From Naples

Soldier from Naples
You who are going to war

I Come from San Rosendo

Carmela! Carmela!
You're arriving in the city
With a smiling face...
Oh, such happiness!
 
I come from
To live in the city.
Down there we lead very healthy lives,
But nothing ever happens.
 
Carmela from San Rosendo
Has arrived in the city.
Down there they lead very healthy lives,
But nothing ever happens...
 
People work all day long,
They go to bed right at sunset
And, as soon as the dawn appears,
We start working all over again!
 
Ah... I come from San Rosendo
To live in the city!
 
Carmela! Carmela!
You're arriving in the city
With a smiling face...
Oh, such happiness!
 
They have told me that here, in ,
People work next to nothing
And the men tell you lovely things
If you go all tarted up...
 
They have told you that here, in Santiago,
People work next to nothing
And the men tell you lovely things
If you go all 'tarted up'...
 
Down there, whenever you dress up
To be the centre of attention,
A really nasty
And gives you a great, big shove!
 
Ah... I come from San Rosendo
To live in the city!
 
[Instrumental]
 
Carmela! Carmela!
You're arriving in the city
With a smiling face...
Oh, such happiness!
 
Carmela! Carmela!
You're arriving in the city
With a smiling face...
Oh, such happiness!
 

• 1. In Chile, a huaso is roughly the equivalent of an American cowboy.

The Little Coal Pedlar

The painter respected her
Like something sacred,
And he concealed his love
Because he was a married man.
 
She seduced him with both her soul and vivaciousness,
Bewitched by the magic of his palette
And, just like a flame, she was consumed
By that secret and dark madness...
 
And when, at night,
Cordoba was asleep
And the
Was like a lament,
A voice would say:
 
Ah! My Little Coal Pedlar, 1
My Little Pedlar of Coal...
 
The silk-like countenance
Takes my breath away!
I keep painting and painting you
Next to the brazier
And, at the same time, I'm burning
Because I love you so much.
 
May Saint Raphael watch over me!
Water is so near me
And yet, I cannot drink it at all...
 
She destroyed that affection
And completely changed her life
And the painter, just like a child,
Wept as he saw he had lost her.
 
And he even changed his style of painting,
And in the streets and squares, people saw him
Pulling the petals off the roses of his bitterness
As if he hadn't belonged to this world at all...
 
And when, at night,
Cordoba was asleep
And the Foal's Fountain
Was like a lament,
The painter would say:
 
Ah! My Little Coal Pedlar,
My Little Pedlar of Coal...
 
I would give my entire life
Just to look at your lovely face!
See how much I love you,
For I keep waiting and waiting
Right next to the brazier
So I can continue painting you...
 
May watch over me!
For I have wanted to forget you
And I haven't been able to forget at all...
 

• 1. '. Please, note that the story presented in this song has next to nothing to do with the real story fo the painting.

When The Moon Rises

La la la la-ra-la-la...
 
When the moon rises
I will be waiting for you,
I will sing for you
My love poems.
My arms will hold you tightly,
My mouth will kiss you
And I want you to leave
Once the sun begins to rise.
 
But, leave swiftly!
I don't want the sun's rays
To reveal your shape...
Reveal my passion!
 
When the moon rises
I will be waiting for you,
And I want you to leave
Once the sun begins to rise.
 
La la la la-ra-la-la...
 
When the moon rises
I will be waiting for you,
In that green field
Filled with blossoming ears of wheat.
Where that faraway night
I have you my poppy blossoms
And then, you left
Forgetting all about my love.
 
I don't want... I don't want white roses,
Nor do I want white tulle:
I want the red roses
Of your passion!
 
When the moon rises...
After having loved you,
I shall close my windows
Once the sun begins to rise.
 
La la la la-ra-la-la...
 

Red Poppy

Of love,
Across the bars of my window,
Of love,
I heard the sorrowful lament.
Of love,
Is rang in my heart
Telling me thus
With its sweet song...
 
Red poppy!
Loveliest red poppy!
My soul shall always be
Only yours.
I love you!
Oh, love of my life!
Just like a flower loves
The light of day.
 
Red poppy!
Loveliest red poppy!
Don't be so ungrateful
And do love me.
Red poppy...
Red poppy...
How can you live
So very alone?
 

Roses for the Emperor

As my dear Madrid's ambassador,
I go about gifting my songs to France,
And Paris's tender voice
Has told me: 'you're like a fleur-re-lis'.
 
Even if you exude the fragrance of carnations,
What's the mystery that lies in your eyes,
That your lights and gleams
Cannot be matched by the
Nor the ?
 
I have repaid Paris's gallantries
With coplas and blossoms from my own country...
 
[Chorus:]
Roses for the emperor, 1
From my dear Spain's gardens!
Roses for the emperor
As an homage to his great achievements.
Roses for the emperor,
With my country's perfume.
But be careful, my lord!
For these roses from Madrid
Can unwittingly wound
Even the emperor himself,
Just like the ones from Paris...
 
When a Spanish woman walks about,
Her golden skin exudes perfume
And, as she crosses a bridge in Paris
They tell her: 'I'm dying since the moment I saw you,
For you have the same face as ah! Our Lady of >'.
 
Since I'm in the kingdom of courtesy
I want to infuse my coplas with cheer...
 
[Chorus:]
Roses for the emperor,
From my dear Spain's gardens!
Roses for the emperor
As an homage to his great achievements.
Roses for the emperor,
With my country's perfume.
But be careful, my lord!
For these roses from Madrid
Can unwittingly wound
Even the emperor himself,
Just like the ones from Paris...
 
From the land of the sun
I have come to Paris
With my Spanish grace...
 
Roses for the emperor!
 

• 1. This refers to Napoleon, who invaded Spain in 1808.

Gypsy

Oh Gypsy, you who, from the caves of
You travel across the entire world,
Carrying the bright flame of your sun.
 
Oh Gypsy, with black hair and golden skin,
With a 's delicate waist...
You're the scent of a blossom!
 
That's why, in your dances and ,
You carry the lovely colour
Of Spain's beautiful skies -
Which is a land filled with jealousy and love.
 
That's why, in your dances and coplas,
You carry the lovely colour
Of Spain's beautiful skies -
Which is a land filled with jealousy and love.
 
Oh Gypsy, with black hair and golden skin,
With a Hagrite's delicate waist...
You're the scent of a blossom!