Singer: Hugo DIAZComposer: Carlos GardelAuthor: Alfredo Le Pera
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5:251/10Joe Corbata y Lucila Cionci - Catania Tango Festival 2013 - Video 1-4
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Angelo Grasso·1.2K views·12 years ago
5:281/3Lucila Cionci & Rodrigo 'Joe' Corbata - Istanbul 2013 #1, 10. International Istanbul Tango Festival
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jkuklaVideo·12 years ago
5:581/4Lucila Cionci & Rodrigo 'joe' Corbata, 1, 10th Istanbul Tango Festival 3-7 July 2013
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Prischepov TV·8.9K views·12 years ago
5:55Most Performed By
More by Hugo DIAZ
Lyrics
Yo adivino el parpadeo de las luces que a lo lejos, van marcando mi retorno. Son las mismas que alumbraron, con sus pálidos reflejos, hondas horas de dolor. Y aunque no quise el regreso, siempre se vuelve al primer amor. La quieta calle donde el eco dijo: 'Tuya es su vida, tuyo es su querer', bajo el burlón mirar de las estrellas que con indiferencia hoy me ven volver. Volver, con la frente marchita, las nieves del tiempo platearon mi sien. Sentir, que es un soplo la vida, que veinte años no es nada, que febril la mirada errante en las sombras te busca y te nombra. Vivir, con el alma aferrada a un dulce recuerdo, que lloro otra vez. Tengo miedo del encuentro con el pasado que vuelve a enfrentarse con mi vida. Tengo miedo de las noches que, pobladas de recuerdos, encadenen mi soñar. Pero el viajero que huye, tarde o temprano detiene su andar. Y aunque el olvido que todo destruye, haya matado mi vieja ilusión, guarda escondida una esperanza humilde, que es toda la fortuna de mi corazón.
English translation
I guess the flickering of the lights that in the distance are marking my return. They are the same ones that illuminated with their pale reflections, deep hours of pain. And although I did not want to return, one always returns to one's first love. The quiet street where the echo said: 'Yours is his life, yours is his want', under the mocking look of the stars that with indifference today see me return. To return, with withered forehead, the snows of time silvered my temple. To feel, that life is a breath, that twenty years is nothing, how feverish the gaze wandering in the shadows seeks you and names you. To live, with the soul clinging to a sweet memory, that I cry again. I am afraid of the encounter with the past that returns to confront my life. I am afraid of the nights that, full of memories, chain my dreaming. But the traveler who flees sooner or later stops his walk. And even if the oblivion that destroys everything has killed my old illusion, it keeps hidden a humble hope, which is all the fortune of my heart.