Arlette (Arlette)
Arlette (Arlette)
Music: Antonio Bonavena
Lyrics: Horacio Sanguinetti
Translation: Felipe & Ayano
Recorded by Juan D'Arienzo with Héctor Mauré in 1944
Embedded Files
Español
Español
Ni los Campos Elíseos,
ni el alegre boulevard,
No verán ya los luceros
de tus ojos verdemar.
Hoy el viejo organillero con dolor
calla frente a tu ventana su canción
ya la muerte te dio cita...
y sé que no faltarás.
Linda y buena francesita,
como aquella Margarita,
llevabas en tu vida,
signo fatal.
Arlette,
no sé por qué tu nombre tiene para mí
Arlette,
la misteriosa poesía del sufrir.
Yo te he visto pensativa
muchas noches tus tristezas llorar
y tus ojos se perdían en distancias,
que cruzaban el mar.
Arlette,
yo nunca quise que supieras mi pasión.
Arlette,
no sé por qué no habló mi pobre corazón.
Arlette,
mas hoy que sé tu triste fin
a tu recuerdo confiaré
mi gran amor.
(Instrumental)
Arlette,
yo nunca quise que supieras mi pasión.
Arlette,
no sé por qué no habló mi pobre corazón.
Arlette,
mas hoy que sé tu triste fin
a tu recuerdo confiaré
mi gran amor.
(Unsung part)
Cuando nieve su tristeza
en el bar, el acordeón,
te veré siempre en la mesa
con tu copa de licor.
Y veré tus labios tristes aletear,
ya conocidos, de hablar solos y fumar.
Y la copa de mi vida
se llenará de dolor.
Recordando tu partida
y tu imagen tan querida
que tanto amó en silencio, mi corazón.
English
English
Neither the Champs-Élysées,
nor the lively boulevard,
will ever again behold the stars
of your sea-green eyes.
Today, the old organ grinder, in sorrow,
silences his song outside your window;
for Death has summoned you...
and I know you will not fail to appear.
Lovely, gentle French girl—
much like that Marguerite of old—
you bore within your life
a fatal sign.
Arlette,
I don't know why your name holds for me—
Arlette—
the mysterious poetry of suffering.
I have watched you, lost in thought,
weeping over your sorrows through many nights;
and your eyes would drift away into distances
that stretched across the sea.
Arlette,
I never wished for you to know of my passion.
Arlette,
I don't know why my poor heart remained silent.
Arlette,
yet now that I know of your tragic end,
I shall entrust to your memory
my great love.
(Instrumental)
Arlette,
I never wished for you to know of my passion.
Arlette,
I don't know why my poor heart remained silent.
Arlette,
yet now that I know of your tragic end,
I shall entrust to your memory
my great love.
(Unsung part)
When the accordion in the bar
weeps out its sorrow,
I shall always see you sitting at your table
with your glass of liqueur.
And I shall see your sad lips flutter—
so familiar now—from talking to yourself and smoking.
And the cup of my own life
will fill to the brim with pain.
Remembering your departure,
and your image—so beloved—
that my heart loved so deeply, in silence.
Theme: French girl, France, muerte, milonguita, francesita
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