Domani - TangoTube
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Singer: Carlos DI SARLISinger 2: Mario PomarComposer: Carlos VivánAuthor: Cátulo Castillo

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Lyrics
El farol de una cantina,
la neblina del Riachuelo
que ha tendido bajo el cielo
como un pálido crespón
y en la mesa, donde pesa
su tristeza sin consuelo,
Don Giovanni está llorando
con la voz del acordeón ...
Su lejana cantilena
se despena, se hace espina
con la dura desventura
que lastima sin matar,
y repite que mañana
volverá su ragazzina,
mariposa mentirosa
remontada sobre el mar.

¡Domani! ...
Volverá mañana,
lejana
pesadilla que pasó...
Y el pobre Don Giovanni
se repite que domani
volverá la niña buena...
Y en la copa que envenena
suena siempre vana
-¡mañana!-
la mentira del alcohol.

Pero inútil...
Ya no queda ni el rincón
de la esperanza.
Sólo puebla su tristeza
la aspereza del pesar
y en la niebla de los años,
y en la muerte que lo alcanza
hay un canto como un llanto
que regresa desde el mar...

Es la voz de los veleros
que llevaron las neblinas
son los viejos puertos muertos
que están mucho más allá
y los ecos que lo aturden,
el alcohol que la asesina
cuando grita que su pobre
ragazzina volverá.
English translation
The lantern of a canteen,
the mist of the Riachuelo
that has spread under the sky
like a pale crepe
and on the table, where it weighs
its sadness without consolation,
Don Giovanni is crying
with the voice of the accordion ...
His distant cantilena
is unwound, it becomes a thorn
with the hard misfortune
that hurts without killing,
and repeats that tomorrow
her ragazzina will return,
lying butterfly
soaring over the sea.

Domani! ...
It will return tomorrow,
far away
nightmare that passed...
And poor Don Giovanni
repeats to himself that domani
the good girl will return...
And in the cup that poisons
always sounds vain
-tomorrow!
the lie of alcohol.

But useless...
There is no longer even a corner
of hope.
Only its sadness populates
the harshness of regret
and in the fog of the years
and in the death that overtakes him
there is a song like a cry
that returns from the sea...

It is the voice of the sailboats
that carried the mists
are the old dead harbors
that are far beyond
and the echoes that stun it,
the alcohol that murders her
when she cries out that her poor
ragazzina will return.

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