Embedded Files
“La gran tentación o La gran ilusión”1962 Antonio Berni (1905-81)
Music: Carlos Viván 1942
Lyrics: Horacio Sanguinetti
Translation: Michael Krugman
Español
Español
Tu padre era rubio, borracho y malevo,
tu madre era negra con labios malvón.
Mulata naciste con ojos de cielo
y mota en el pelo de negro carbón.
Creciste entre el lodo de un barrio muy pobre,
cumpliste veinte años en un cabaret.
Y ahora te llaman moneda de cobre
porque vieja y triste muy poco valés.
Moneda de cobre,
yo sé que ayer fuiste hermosa;
yo con tus alas de rosa
te vi volar mariposa
y después te vi caer...
Moneda de fango,
¡Qué bien bailabas el tango!...
Que linda estabas entonces
como una reina de bronce,
allá en el "Folies Berger."
(Instrumental)
Moneda de fango,
¡Qué bien bailabas el tango!...
Que linda estabas entonces
como una reina de bronce,
allá en el "Folies Berger."
(Unsung part)
Aquel barrio triste de barro y de latas
igual que tu vida desapareció...
Pasaron veinte años, querida mulata,
no existen tus padres, no existe el farol.
Quizás en la esquina te quedes perdida
buscando la casa que te vio nacer;
seguí, no te pares, no muestres la herida...
No llores mulata, total, ¡para qué!
English
English
Your father was blond, a drunk, a hoodlum,
Your mother was black with broad pink lips.
You were born mulata--mixed--with blue eyes
and wavy, coal-black hair.
You grew up in the mire of a poor neighborhood,
turned twenty in a cabaret,
And today they call you Moneda de Cobre, Copper Coin,
Old and sad and worth very little.
Moneda de cobre,
I know you were beautiful back then;
With your pink wings,
Like a butterfly, I saw you fly,
And then I saw you fall...
Moneda de fango—tarnished coin,
How well you used to dance the tango!
I know that you were beautiful back then,
Like a bronze queen,
There in the "Folies Bergere."
(Instrumental)
Moneda de fango—tarnished coin,
How well you used to dance the tango!
I know that you were beautiful back then,
Like a bronze queen,
There in the "Folies Bergere."
(Unsung part)
That sad barrio full of mud and pain
Now vanished, along with your youth...
Twenty years have passed, my dear,
Your parents, gone, the streetlamps, gone.
Perhaps you got lost out on the corner,
Looking for the house where you were born;
Keep looking, don't stop, don't show the pain...
Don't cry, mulata, what good would it do?
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