Griseta (1924)

Grisette[1]
lyrics by José González Castillo

A strange cross between Musette and Mimi,
with the caresses of Rodolfo and Schaunard, [2]
she was the flower of Paris
that the dream of a novel brought to the arrabal.
And in the crazy ramblings of the cabaret
the sweet melody of some tough-guy tango
encouraged her illusions:
she dreamt of Des Grieux,
she wanted to be Manon, [3]

Little French girl,
you brought, fickle temptress,
the sentimental, flirtatious
poetry of your Parisian neighborhood.
Who could have said
that your grisette poem
would have only one verse:
the silent agony
of Marguerite Gauthier? [4]

But the cold squalor of the arrabal,
withered the purity of her faith—
without finding her Duval,
her heart dried out, just like a lily of the valley.
And on a night of champagne and cocaine,
to the funeral dirge of a bandoneón,
the poor girl, she went to sleep…
just like Mimí,
just like Manón.

[1] A French term roughly meaning “little grey girl,” grisette refers to the inexpensive grey fabric worn by working class girls. In Buenos Aires, such French immigrant girls were stereotypically seamstresses.
[2] Characters in Puccini’s La bohème and the 1851 French novel by Henri Murger that inspired it. Mimí is a seamstress who succumbs to tuberculosis.
[3] Characters in Puccini’s Manon Lescaut and the 1731 novel by Antoine François Prévost that inspired it. Like Mimí, Manon dies in her lover’s arms at the end.
[4] Protagonist of Dumas fils’ novel The Lady of the Camellias adapted into Verdi’s La Traviata and countless other stories, she is a tragic heroine like Mimí & Manón.

Carlos Gardel

Orq. Carlos Di Sarli, singer Roberto Rufino

Orq. Rodolfo Biagi, singer Andrés Falgas

Orq. Osvaldo Fresedo (instrumental)

(Spanish original after the jump)

Griseta

Mezcla rara de Museta y de Mimí
con caricias de Rodolfo y de Schaunard,
era la flor de París
que un sueño de novela trajo al arrabal.
Y en el loco divagar del cabaret,
al arrullo de algún tango compadrón
alentaba una ilusión:
soñaba con Des Grieux,
quería ser Manon.

Francesita,
que trajiste, pizpireta,
sentimental y coqueta
la poesía del quartier,
¿Quién diría
que tu poema de griseta
sólo una estrofa tendría:
la silenciosa agonía
de Margarita Gauthier?

Mas la fría sordidez del arrabal,
agostando la pureza de su fe,
sin hallar a su Duval,
secó su corazón lo mismo que un muguet.
Y una noche de champán y de cocó,
al arrullo funeral de un bandoneón,
pobrecita, se durmió…
lo mismo que Mimí,
lo mismo que Manón.