Post tango blues headache maybe a cold the cool approach of autumn colder than usual after all the embraces... counting down to next embrace listening to Troilo thinking feeling too much... Walking on a bridge that really isn't there between what can be and what is Walking on a bridge that is crumbling from dreams to daily hustle from goodbye to hello again from this time zone to that, and then to another with a tango stuck in replay over and over again... cada vez
Primero la cita lejana de Abril, tu oscuro balcon, tu antiguo jardin; mas tarde las cartas de pulso febril mintiendo que no, jurando que si. Romance de barrio, tu amor y mi amor, primero un querer, después un dolor por culpas que nunca tuvimos por culpas que debimos sufrir los dos.
First the far-off April rendezvous, your old-time garden, your balcony in darkness; then the letters of fevered pulse, lying no, and testifying yes. Neighborhood romance, your love and my love, first a desire, later a heartache over faults we were never guilty of, over faults that both of us had to suffer for.
Hoy viviras despreciandome, tal vez sin soñar que lamento al no poderte tener, el dolor de no saber olvidar... hoy estaras como nunca lejos mio, lejos de tanto llorar— fue porque si, que el despecho te cego como a mi sin mirar que en el rencor del adios castigabas con crueldad tu corazón; fue porque si, que de pronto no supimos pensar que es más facil renegar y partir que vivir sin olvidar...
You despise me today, perhaps without dreaming that I weep at not being able to keep you, the grief of not knowing how to forget... You're over me today like never before, you're over all the weeping— and all because spite blinded you the same as me, without showing you that the grudge of your goodbye punished your heart with its cruelty— and all because it was suddenly beyond us to imagine that it's easier to swear and walk away than to live without forgetting...
Ceniza del tiempo la cita de Abril, tu oscuro balcon, tu antiguo jardin, las cartas trazadas con mano febril, mintiendo que no, jurando que si. Retornan vencidas tu voz y mi voz trayendo al volver con tonos de horror las culpas que nunca tuvimos, las culpas que debimos pagar los dos.
Ashes of time, that April rendezvous, your old-time garden, your balcony in darkness, the letters drawn out with fevered hand, lying no, and testifying yes. In defeat they return, your voice and my voice, carrying back to us in pitches of horror the faults we were never guilty of, the faults that both of us had to suffer for.
