Cafetin

Cafetín,
where men cry
who know the taste
left by the seas...
Cafetín
and that bitter sorrow
watching the ships
to return to their home...
I was waiting,
because I always dreamed
the peace of a village
without hunger and bullets.
Cafetín,
I no longer have hope
nor dream nor village
to return to.

In the old coffee shops
memories always haunt
and a tango beat of yesteryear
will add color
to the pain of the emigrant.
There the wine blooms,
the village of memories
and the smoke of tobacco.
In the old cafes
always haunt the memories
of a country and a love.

Under the gray
of the mature moon
the dark figure of a ship
figure of a ship.
And in the hue
of a scarlet lantern
the waters of the Plata
look like a puddle.
What bitterness
to be on this side
knowing that in front of us
the past is calling us!...
Cafetín,
in your glass of wine
I dissolve the destiny
that I forget for you...