Que te pasa Buenos Aires

It has been twenty years that I have missed your streets,
streets of mine, because I grew up in them,
and today that I've returned, what's wrong with you Buenos Aires?
What disaster is there in the street of my love?
I dreamed of seeing Corrientes, the porteña,
with its boxes of dreamers tangueros;
of the good there's not a trace, not a sign;
to see you ruined like this, I'm leaving.

What's wrong with you Buenos Aires?
who committed the heresy
of exchanging for pizzerias
where tango was cradled?
What's wrong with you Buenos Aires?
if Carlitos saw you like this
I would return to infinity
crying with indignation...
Reclaiming you, goatherd...
put the tango boxes
because this is a big mess.
What's wrong with you Buenos Aires?
You are no longer the same as before,
you are sad, agonizing,
without tangos, without emotion.

I can't explain to myself why the porteños, for what reason
they have left the whole deck to the others,
there are already many who have invaded our house,
but there's time to put a stop to them.
Let each one give free rein to his breast
and tear the tango chunk out of his heart,
to give them the olive tree with right
if a Juan from outside wants to basure us.