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Fuimos (1945)

We Were…
lyrics by Homero Manzi
music by José Dames

I was like a rain of ashes and afflictions
in the calmest hours of your life…
a drop of vinegar spilled,
fatefully spilled, into all of your wounds.
Because of me you became
a summer swallow in the snow,
a wilted rose under rainless clouds.

We were the hope that never comes,
that never is enough,
that never glimpses a gentle afternoon.
We were the traveler that never begs,
never prays, never weeps,
who has laid down to die.

Go!
Can’t you see that you are killing yourself?
Can’t you see that I am calling out to you?
Go!
Don’t kiss me, I am weeping for you
though I didn’t want to weep for you anymore…

Don’t you see?
Better that my sorrow
be cast out with your love,
freed from my last love.
Go!
Can’t you see that I am saving you?
can’t you see that I still love you?
Don’t follow me, or call out to me, or kiss me,
or weep for me, or love me anymore!

We were embraced by the anguish of an omen
in the night on a dead-end road,
pale remains of a shipwreck,
ravaged by the waves of life and love.
We were thrown about by a desolate wind…
shadows of a shadow
returning from the past.

Orquesta Osvaldo Pugliese, singer Roberto Chanel

Orquesta Aníbal Troilo, singer Alberto Marino

Susana Rinaldi

(Spanish original after the jump)

Fuimos

Fui como una lluvia de cenizas y fatigas
en las horas resignadas de tu vida…
gota de vinagre derramada,
fatalmente derramada, sobre todas tus heridas.
Fuiste por mi culpa
golondrina entre la nieve,
rosa marchitada por la nube que no llueve.

Fuimos la esperanza que no llega,
que no alcanza
que no puede vislumbrar la tarde mansa.
Fuimos el viajero que no implora,
que no reza, que no llora,
que se echó a morir.

¡Vete!
¿No comprendes que te estás matando?
¿No comprendes que te estoy llamando?
¡Vete!
No me beses que te estoy llorando
y quisiera no llorarte más…

¿No ves?
Es mejor que mi dolor
quede tirado con tu amor,
librado de mi amor final.
¡Vete!
¿No comprendes que te estoy salvando?
¿No comprendes que te estoy amando?
¡No me sigas, ni me llames, ni me beses
ni me llores, ni me quieras más!

Fuimos abrazados a la angustia de un presagio
por la noche de un camino sin salidas,
pálidos despojos de un naufragio
sacudidos por las olas del amor y de la vida.
Fuimos empujados en un viento desolado…
sombras de una sombra
que tornaba del pasado.

Fuimos la esperanza que no llega,
que no alcanza
que no puede vislumbrar su tarde mansa.
Fuimos el viajero que no implora,
que no reza, que no llora,
que se echó a morir.

About Derrick Del Pilar

Born and raised in Chicago, I came to the tango while studying at the Universidad de Belgrano in Buenos Aires in 2006. In 2008 I earned my B.A. with majors in Creative Writing and Spanish & Portuguese from the University of Arizona, and in 2009 I earned an M.A. in Latin American Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. My specialty is the history & literature of early 20th century Argentina.

Discussion

5 thoughts on “Fuimos (1945)

  1. Qué bello tango, una poesía fuerte en las imágenes y sutil en las metáforas. Gracias por tu trabajo, Derrick.

    Posted by Lidia Ferrari | 07.11.2011, 9:08 PM
    • Una de las cosas que más me encantan es que Manzi dijo, “Fuimos EL viajero.” Si hubiera dicho “Fuimos los viajeros…” habría perdido esta liviana y, como decís, sutil sugerencia de la unión de los dos…

      Posted by poesiadegotan | 07.12.2011, 1:42 AM

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Pingback: 海邊的小孩子 | 看不開 - 07.11.2011

  2. Pingback: Pugliese: Vocals with Roberto Chanel « DDP's Favorite Tandas - 12.02.2011

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