February 06, 2022

Rosamel

February 06, 2022/ Allison Carter

I like the beginning notes of Di Sarli's Rosamel, because it reminds me of "I know you," from Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty.

Rosamel is an unusal name, but I was intrigued because it reminded me of both rosemary and honey. 1940

Lyrics : Héctor Marcó (Héctor Domingo Marcolongo)
Music : Carlos Di Sarli
Singer: Roberto Rufino

In this recording, he only sings the first verse, but I put the rest on just because.

Often, when I do these translations, they sound so dark. It's only when you listen to the music, that you realize the nice melody and upbeat orchestration make it a much happier tone. That is typical of tango though; these dark themes, off set by a happier music. Like sugar making coffee taste less bitter. Hopefully this time, the pictures convey the tone.

Rosamel
My little house sleeps in its flowering hills
in the peace the moons paints itself in a sky of love.
You're missing...
and my imagination runs crazily
that for my secret suffering, my hours of torment
a god will fault you...

I would like to be a condor,
with a penetrating gaze and daring feathers
to take you to the sky
on top of my wings...
And there, in the white peaks of my illusions
to raise my nest,
so far from the forgetting
that you can't return

If you hear this voice
have faith in me
it is the voice of my pain, that returns to you..
and if your height breaks your bitterness
its that my love is only for you!

Rosamel
my sad little street again fell asleep
but now, because of you, the honeysuckle on its hill has died.
Return to me
I can't reconcile sleep without your love
Come, that even the moon, in a reproach
to make my night even worse
hides itself, from pain

Spanish Lyrics: https://www.el-recodo.com/music?id=2484&lang=en

January 18, 2022

Fuimos - We were

January 18, 2022/ Allison Carter

Translation by Tango Allison/Allison Carter - My favorite version of this song, Fuimos, is by Adriana Varela, in her album Maquillaje, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MOPUUvNrs7s&list=PL122F472850DA6196&index=1

I was like a rain of ash and weariness
in the resigned hours of your life
Drop of vinegar spilled,
fatally spilled, over all your wounds.
You were, and it was my fault, a swallow in the snow
a rose consumed by the cloud that doesn't rain.
We were the hope that doesn't arrive, that doesn't quite reach,
that cannot illuminate its gentle afternoon
We were the traveler who doesn't beg, who doesn't pray, who doesn't cry, who just sits down and dies.

Go!
Can't you understand that you're killing yourself?
Can't you understand that I'm calling you?
Go!
Don't kiss me, that I'm crying over you,
And I would like to not cry over you anymore
Don't you see?

It's better that my pain
remains thrown away with your love
freed of my final love
Go!
Don't you understand that I'm saving you?
Don't you understand that I'm loving you?
Don't follow me, nor call me, nor kiss me,
nor cry over me, nor love me more!

We were clutching the anguish of a premonition
by the night of a pathway without exits
pale remains of a shipwreck,
shaken by the waves of love and of life.
We were pushed in a desolate wind
shadows of a shadow that turned around the past.
We were the hope that doesn't arrive, that doesn't quite reach,
that can't illuminate its sunny afternoon
We were the traveler who doesn't ask, who doesn't pray, who doesn't cry, who just sits down and dies.