(tango)
... To the "fat Troilo"
Bandoneon, do not cry for me,
feel the heat of my sorrows,
every time you open your ...
I burn with the right hand
and hold me to the left ...
She left, and my hopes,
were lost in a dingy corner.
Only I had the spine,
and the sounds that you keep me ...
Give me a "puñao '" melodies,
"pa 'encurdelarme" meantime.
It is useless to cry vain,
when you paint the anguish ...
I give way to music,
to not choke on these cups.
The sadness that overwhelms me today,
has broken seal illusions ...
Maybe for other stories is different,
the music will come very pure.
I delved into my slacks,
hitting a Tarascon your cadences.
The portion of my consciousness,
encountered protesting the blame.
In every silence you, courageous,
are the elves with their antics ...
I make jokes on my cheeks,
laughing at my weakness.
Fastness pretend that "mina",
knowing its evanescence.
Today I feel like a poet,
night when the moon is missing ....
Bandoneon, my most valuable relief
always so generous support.
You the whip is made of cloth,
and pays the judgment of my innocence ...
You light the way more suffering,
with rubble notes ...
So little does my lament poor
if You swallowed with sixth chords ....
"puñado" = handful
"pa'encurdelarme" = for drunk
"mina" = girl Daniel H Guasti
muy lindo
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