Francisco Canaro - Mi Noche Triste - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

MI NOCHE TRISTE - Грустная ночь

Первое синтеминтальное танго

My sad night (1917)

Music by: Samuel Castriota

Lyrics by: Pascual Contursi

Gardel first recorded this song with the guitar of Jose Ricardo (acoustic system), on an Odeon label (1917). Gardel re-recorded it with Odeon in April 1930 (Мне она больше по нраву).

Percanta que me amuraste

en lo mejor de mi vida

dejandome el alma herida

y splin en el corazon,

sabiendo que te queria,

que vos eras mi alegria

y mi sueño abrasador...

Para mi ya no hay consuelo

y por eso me encurdelo

pa' olvidarme de tu amor.

Cuando voy a mi cotorro

lo veo desarreglado,

todo triste, abandonado,

me dan ganas de llorar,

y me paso largo rato

campaneando tu retrato

pa' poderme consolar.

De noche cuando me acuesto

no puedo cerrar la puerta

porque dejandola abierta

me hago ilusion que volves.

Siempre traigo bizcochitos

pa' tomar con matecito

como cuando estabas vos...

Y si vieras la catrera

como se pone cabrera

cuando no nos ve a los dos.

Ya no hay en el bulin

aquellos lindos frasquitos

adornados con moñitos

todos de un mismo color,

y el espejo esta empañado,

si parece que ha llorado

por la ausencia de tu amor.

La guitarra en el ropero

todavia esta colgada;

nadie en ella canta nada

ni hace sus cuerdas vibrar...

Y la lampara del cuarto

tambien tu ausencia ha sentido

porque su luz no ha querido

mi noche triste alumbrar.

Woman, you dumped me

at the prime of my life

leaving my soul wounded

and dullness in my heart,

knowing that I loved you,

that you were my joy

and my burning dream...

There is no solace for me,

that is why I’m getting drunk

to forget about you love.

When I return to my room

I find it all messed up,

very sad, abandoned,

I feel like crying,

and I spend long hours

staring at your portrait

to find solace.

At night when I go to bed

I can't close the door

because leaving it open

I make believe that you're back.

I always bring cookies

to accompany the mate

like if you were still here.

And if could see the bed

how upsets it gets

when it does not see us both.

There are no longer in the room

those pretty little bottles

decorated with ribbons,

all of the same color,

and the mirror looks foggy,

it seems that it has cried

for the absence of your love.

The guitar in the closet

is still hanging

nobody ever sings anything

or makes its strings vibrate...

And the lamp in the room

also has felt your absence

because its light has not wanted

to light up my sorrowful night.

Arrabal: slums in the outskirts of the city.

Percanta: how the ruffian called his lover

Porteños: those from the port; name given to those born in the capital city of Buenos Aires.