Mi noche triste - TangoTube
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Mi noche triste

Francisco CANAROFrancisco CANAROtango1936-07-1410 videos
Singer: Francisco CANAROSinger 2: Roberto MaidaComposer: Samuel CastriotaAuthor: Pascual Contursi

More by Francisco CANARO

Lyrics
Percanta que me amuraste
en lo mejor de mi vida,
dejándome el alma herida
y espina en el corazón,
sabiendo que te quería,
que vos eras mi alegría
y mi sueño abrasador,
para mí ya no hay consuelo
y por eso me encurdelo
pa'olvidarme de tu amor.

Cuando voy a mi cotorro
y lo veo desarreglado,
todo triste, abandonado,
me dan ganas de llorar;
me detengo largo rato
campaneando tu retrato
pa poderme consolar.

Ya no hay en el bulín
aquellos lindos frasquitos
, arreglados con moñitos
todos del mismo color.
El espejo está empañado
y parece que ha llorado
por la ausencia de tu amor.

De noche, cuando rne acuesto
no puedo cerrar la puerta,
porque dejándola abierta
me hago ilusión que volvés.
Siempre llevo bizcochitos
pa tomar con matecitos
como si estuvieras vos,
y si vieras la catrera
cómo se pone cabrera
cuando no nos ve a los dos.

La guitarra, en el ropero
todavía está colgada:
nadie en ella canta nada
ni hace sus cuerdas vibrar.
Y la lámpara del cuarto
también tu ausencia ha sentido
porque su luz no ha querido
mi noche triste alumbrar.
English translation
Percanta that you loved me
in the best of my life,
leaving my soul wounded
and thorn in my heart,
knowing that I loved you,
that you were my joy
and my burning dream,
for me there is no more consolation
and that's why I'm in a daze
to forget your love.

When I go to my blabbermouth
and I see it in disarray
all sad, abandoned,
it makes me want to cry;
I stop for a long time
ringing your portrait
so that I can console myself.

There are no more in the bulín
those pretty little bottles
arranged with little bows
all of the same color.
The mirror is fogged up
and it seems to have cried
for the absence of your love.

At night, when I go to bed
I can't close the door
because leaving it open
I get the illusion that you're coming back.
I always bring biscuits
to drink with matecitos
as if you were there,
and if you saw the catrera
how cabrera gets
when she doesn't see both of us.

The guitar, in the closet
it's still hanging:
no one on it sings anything
nor makes its strings vibrate.
And the lamp in the room
has also felt your absence
because its light has not wanted
to illuminate my sad night.

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