"On a summer day in 1989, Van Morrison and Bob Dylan met up in Greece and brought their acoustic guitars to the place in Athens where the ancients believed the muses lived. Philopappos Hill, traditionally known as the Hill of the Muses, rises high above the Athens Basin and has a commanding view of the Acropolis. It was June 29. Dylan had just wrapped up a European tour the night before at Panathinaiko Stadium, and Morrison was traveling with a BBC crew for an Arena documentary that would be broadcast in 1991 as One Irish Rover: Van Morrison in Performances. The two legendary singer-songwriters played 4 of Morrison’s songs: “Foreign Window” and “One Irish Rover,” above, and “Crazy Love,” below. A fourth song, “And It Stoned Me,” was apparently cut from the film, but here it is, in all it`s glory even with a false start."
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta cancionero. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta cancionero. Mostrar todas las entradas
De La Banda a Santiago - Leo Dan · Los Manseros Santiagueños (1980)
Santiagueño soy, señores, cantando la chacarera
Cruzando el Río Dulce, siempre alguien me espera
Tomando un traguito y vino, golpeando dos cajas viejas
Vidaleros se preparan cantando en la ceja
Repícale fuerte al bombo, que el violín está llorando
Salamanca de Loreto siempre ando añorando
A la banda voy llegando, siempre me acuerdo del pago
Aunque lejos yo me encuentre, le canto a Santiago
Nochecitas santiagueñas, nunca las puedo olvidar
Hasta que aclare el día, sabíamos cantar
Se viste de fiesta el pago cuando suena una guitarra
Ay, juñita, qué lindo eran aquellas lindas farras
Ya me voy, estoy de vuelta, cantando la chacarera
Debajo de un talavero aunque después me muera
A la banda voy llegando, siempre me acuerdo del pago
Aunque lejos yo me encuentre, le canto a Santiago
Andar con fé (a mi padre)
(los que a mí más me gusta leer
y escuchar al menos)
son cristianos y lo dicen.
son cristianos y lo dicen.
Que son canales de la palabra
de Dios.
Creo en la Humanidad porque tengo
Creo en la Humanidad porque tengo
fe en Dios, poder superior,
justicia poética, amor.
Agradecida!
Diosa - Chancha Vía Circuito & Sofía Viola - Letra: Pedro Canale & Sofía Viola (2026)
Solamente hay una cosa
Maravillosa y sin color
Que está el aire, en un respiro
En un silencio, en el sol
Pa que ser tan vanidosa
Ante todo es milagrosa
Nunca será peligrosa
Anda volando en el aire
Como mariposa
Por supuesto es mucha cosa
Pal que ríe, reza, llora o goza
Pal que bebe pal que no
Pal del margen, para Dios
La existencia es más hermosa
A su lado siento cosas
Me hace bien al corazón
Donde sea que esté
Esa será una experiencia religiosa
Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa
Como Saraswati enciende su corona!
Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa, Diosa
Santa Cecilia!
Siempre al lado en mi camino
Desde la cuna hasta el vino
Todo le debo
Pa´ eso vivo
Siempre al lado en mi camino
Desde la cuna hasta el vino
Todo le debo
Pa´ eso vivo
Canto a los pajaritos
A lo humano y lo divino
Pa los sabios, pa los niños
Pa los nadie y los algunos
Los del medio, todo el mundo
Ofrezco mi voz
Pa que lo bailes
Mi amor
Sale de mis adentros para vos
De todo te olvidas (Cabeza de novia) - Tango cantado por Carlos Gardel (1929)
Música: Salvador Merico
Letra: Enrique Cadícamo
De un tiempo a esta parte, muchacha,
te noto más pálida y triste... Decí ¿qué tenés?
Tu carita tiene el blancor del loto
y yo, francamente, chiquita, no sé...
¿Qué pena te embarga? ¿Por qué ya no ríes
con ese derroche de plata y cristal?
Tu boquita, donde sangraron rubíes,
hoy muestra una mueca, trasuntando un mal...
El piano está mudo.
Tus ágiles manos
no arrancan el tema
del tango tristón...
A veces te encuentro
un poco amargada,
llorando, encerrada,
en la habitación.
Y he visto, extrañando,
que muy a menudo,
"de todo te olvidas",
cabeza de novia,
¡nimbada de amor!
¿Qué es lo que te pasa? Cuéntame; te ruego
que me confidencias tu preocupación...
Acaso tu pena es la que Carriego,
rimando cuartetas, a todos contó.
"De todo te olvidas, cabeza de novia",
pensando en el chico que en tu corazón
dejó con sus besos sus credos amantes,
como un ofertorio de dulce pasión...
Buenos Aires Vos Quien Sos - Julieta Laso (2018)
Caprichosa, la reina del Plata
Colecciona amores que te matan
Goyeneche, Troilo, Maradona
Macedonio, Borges y un idioma
Que va al vesre como este destino
Gambeteando piñas, Nicolino
Sos Eladia y nazar anchorena
El peine de Ringo Bonavena
La que me hace llorar, la dueña de mi amor
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
La de avenida Alvear, puta en Constitución
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
La risa de Gardel, las manos de Perón
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
Lisandro y yo en un bar, Narciso al mostrador
Esta alergia cada primavera
Coche te pisa, bondi que no frena
Sos Cerati, Charly, Luca Prodan
Nelly Omar y Manzi, Ferrer y Piazzolla
Reino del revés de María Elena
Ya no habrá más olvido ni pena
Clase media, progre y remolona
Merca que acelera las neuronas
Pompeya y más allá, siempre la inundación
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
Luis Spinetta luz, Miguel Abuelo sol
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
Los tanos del café puteando contra Dios
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
Martín de Villarreal, los pibes Cromañón
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
Luis Spinetta luz, Miguel Abuelo sol
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
Los tanos del café puteando contra Dios
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
Martín de Villarreal, los pibes Cromañón
Agua con azufre, puro riachuelo
Político miente, palomas al cielo
Rosalinda, oasis en Flores
Santa Rita con su mal de amores
La Boca, Quinquela, la Fernández Fierro
Mis noches de gato, mis días de perro
Pecados y culpa, virgen milagrosa
Trucho que te vende cualquier cosa
Político miente, palomas al cielo
Rosalinda, oasis en Flores
Santa Rita con su mal de amores
La Boca, Quinquela, la Fernández Fierro
Mis noches de gato, mis días de perro
Pecados y culpa, virgen milagrosa
Trucho que te vende cualquier cosa
El de "chau, no va más", la de naranjo en flor
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
La Mezzeta, Güerrín, cerveza en El Balón
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
El Laucha con su cruz, las noches del Tuñón
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
La barra de José por puente Pueyrredón
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
La Mezzeta, Güerrín, cerveza en El Balón
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
El Laucha con su cruz, las noches del Tuñón
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
La barra de José por puente Pueyrredón
Nos une el amor hasta el espanto
Clarín, La Nación, Espíritu Santo
San Martín de Tours, Liniers, Mataderos
Villa 21 y Puerto Madero
Umbral, calle Honduras, verso de Carriego
Moris caminando por plaza Dorrego
Libros por Corrientes, San Telmo empedrado
Las mejores minas que hay ningún lado
Clarín, La Nación, Espíritu Santo
San Martín de Tours, Liniers, Mataderos
Villa 21 y Puerto Madero
Umbral, calle Honduras, verso de Carriego
Moris caminando por plaza Dorrego
Libros por Corrientes, San Telmo empedrado
Las mejores minas que hay ningún lado
Paragua de fumar, abril lleno de flor
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
El hotel Castelar, Rivadavia y Rincón
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
Sos Lugano 1 y 2, el Tripa con Limón
(Buenos Aires, ¿vos quién sos?)
Tu maldita humedad, tu bendita canción
Happens to the Heart - Leonard Cohen (2019)
But I never called it art
I got my shit together
Meeting Christ and reading Marx
It failed my little fire
But it’s bright the dying spark
Go tell the young messiah
What happens to the heart
There’s a mist of summer kisses
Where I tried to double-park
The rivalry was vicious
The women were in charge
It was nothing, it was business
But it left an ugly mark
I’ve come here to revisit
What happens to the heart
I was selling holy trinkets
I was dressing kind of sharp
Had a pussy in the kitchen
And a panther in the yard
In the prison of the gifted
I was friendly with the guards
So I never had to witness
What happens to the heart
I should have seen it coming
After all I knew the chart
Just to look at her was trouble
It was trouble from the start
Sure we played a stunning couple
But I never liked the part
It ain't pretty, it ain't subtle
What happens to the heart
Now the angel’s got a fiddle
The devil’s got a harp
Every soul is like a minnow
Every mind is like a shark
I’ve broken every window
But the house, the house is dark
I care but very little
What happens to the heart
Then I studied with this beggar
He was filthy, he was scarred
By the claws of many women
He had failed to disregard
No fable here no lesson
No singing meadowlark
Just a filthy beggar guessing
What happens to the heart
I was always working steady
But I never called it art
It was just some old convention
Like the horse before the cart
I had no trouble betting
On the flood, against the ark
You see, I knew about the ending
What happens to the heart
I was handy with a rifle
My father’s .303
I fought for something final
Not the right to disagree
La Pucha Con El Hombre - Pullenque/Carlos Carabajal
El hombre nace y muere, a veces, sin vivir
Camina, desde el niño al viejo, sin gozar
De eso que él mismo le llama felicidad
Y, si la tiene aquí, la va a buscar allá
Tropieza tantas veces en una misma piedra
Fruta es que llega a pasa sin madurar
Si tiene, tira, o quiere tener mucho más
Es un misterio y es, de la vida, la sal
Tiene alma de guitarra
Encordada de estrellas
Y es una falta envido su corazón
Solo se diferencia del reino animal
Porque es el hombre el único capaz de odiar
Pero, mientras el hombre se asombre y llore y ría
Será la fantasía que Dios creó
Es una lágrima de niño y de crespín
Es monte denso, copla, río y manantial
Es muy capaz de dar la vida o de matar
Es luz y sombra, tierra arada y arenal
La pucha con el hombre
Querer ser tantas cosas
Y nunca es más que cuando tan solo es él
Es un camino que anda solo bajo el Sol
Sendero trajinado por sueños de amor
Es un viejo legüero
Garroteado de chango
Con son de vino triste y de carnaval
Solo se diferencia del reino animal
Porque es el hombre el único capaz de odiar
Pero, mientras el hombre se asombre y llore y ría
Será la fantasía que Dios creó
Música: Cuti Carabajal, Letra: Pablo Trullenque.
Entre a Mi Pago Sin Golpear - Los Manseros Santiagueños (1987)
Música: Carlos Carabajal / Letra: Pablo Raúl Trullenqu
(Adentro)
Fue mucho mi penar andando lejos del pago
Tanto correr pa' llegar a ningún lado
Y estaba donde nací lo que buscaba por ahí
Es oro en la amistad que no se compra ni vende
Solo se da cuando, en el pecho, se siente
No es algo que se ha de usar cuando le sirva y nada más
Así es como se da en la amistad mis paisanos
Sus manos son pan cacho y mate cebado
Y la flor de la humildad suele su rancho perfumar
La vida me han presta'o y tengo que devolverla
Cuando el Creador me llame para la entrega
Que mis huesos, piel y sal abonen mi suelo natal
(Segunda)
(Adentro)
La Luna es un terrón que alumbra con luz prestada
Solo al cantor que canta coplas del alma
Le estalla, en el corazón, el Sol que trepa por su voz
Cantor, para cantar, si nada dicen sus versos
Ay, ¿para qué vas a callar al silencio?
Si es el silencio un cantor lleno de duendes en la voz
Mi pueblo es un cantor que canta la chacarera
No ha de cantar lo que, muy dentro, no sienta
Cuando lo quiera escuchar, entre a mi pago sin golpear
La vida me han presta'o y tengo que devolverla
Cuando el Creador me llame para la entrega
Que mis huesos, piel y sal, abonen mi suelo natal
Ragged Old Flag - Johnny Cash (1974)
I walked through a county courthouse square
On a park bench an old man was sitting there
I said "Your old courthouse is kinda run down"
He said "No, it'll do for our little town"
I said "Your old flagpole is kinda leaned a little bit
And that's a ragged old flag you got hanging on it"
He said "Have a seat" and I sat down
"Is this the first time you've come to our little town?"
I said "I think it is"
He said "I don't like to brag
But we're kinda proud of that ragged old flag"
You see we got a little hole in that flag there
When Washington took it across the Delaware
And it got powder burns the night Francis Scott Key
Sat up watching it writing'say can you see?'
And it got a little rip in New Orleans
With Packingham and Jackson tugging at its seams
And it almost fell at the Alamo
Beside the Texas flag but she waved on though
It got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville
Got cut again at Shiloh Hill
There was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard and Bragg
And the south wind blew hard on that ragged old flag
On Flanders Field in World War I
She got a bad hole from a Bertha gun
She turned blood red in World War II
She hung limp and low by the time that one was through
She was in Korea and Vietnam
She went where she was sent by her Uncle Sam
She waved from our ships upon the briny foam
And now we've about quit waving her back here at home
And in her own good land here she's been abused
She's been burned, dishonored, denied and refused
And now the very government for which she stands
Is scandalized throughout the land
And she's getting threadbare and she's wearing kinda thin
But she's in good shape for the shape she's in
'Cause she's been through the fire before
And she can take a whole lot more
So we raise her up every morning
And we bring her down slowly every night
We don't let her touch the ground and we fold her up right
On second thought I do like to brag
'Cause I'm mighty proud of that ragged old flag
Bob Dylan - Only a Pawn in Their Game (Live At Newport Folk Festival - 1963)
A bullet from the back of a bush
Took Medgar Evers' blood
A finger fired the trigger to his name
A handle hid out in the dark
A hand set the spark
Two eyes took the aim
Behind a man's brain
But he can't be blamed
He's only a pawn in their game
A South politician preaches to the poor white man
"You got more than the blacks, don't complain
You're better than them, you been born with white skin, " they explain
And the Negro's name
Is used, it is plain
For the politician's gain
As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game
The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid
And the marshals and cops get the same
But the poor white man's used in the hands of them all like a tool
He's taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
'Bout the shape that he's in
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game
From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks
And the hoofbeats pound in his brain
And he's taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide 'neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He ain't got no name
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game
Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught
They lowered him down as a king
But when the shadowy sun sets on the one
That fired the gun
He'll see by his grave
On the stone that remains
Carved next to his name
His epitaph plain
Only a pawn in their game
Medgar Wiley Evers (/ˈmɛdɡər/; July 2, 1925 – June 12, 1963) was an American civil rights activist who was the NAACP's first field secretary in Mississippi. A United States Army veteran who served in World War II, he was engaged in efforts to overturn racial segregation at the University of Mississippi, end the segregation of public facilities, and expand opportunities for African Americans, including the enforcement of voting rights prior to his assassination.
Wise Up*
Si uno siente algo que molesta
tal vez, a veces
busca taparlo
en lugar de verlo de frente
o de a poco, y desgranarlo.
De repente, un rayo
como calor de hogar
en un día invernal
en un día invernal
un café con una amiga,
andar en bicicleta todos los días,
un llamado breve de tu hermano,
andar en bicicleta todos los días,
un llamado breve de tu hermano,
hacen que percibas
cuánto necesitabas
una buena conversación.
una buena conversación.
Sentirte en casa.
No mucho más.
No mucho más.
*Wise Up es una canción de Aimee Mann (1996). Forma parte de la banda sonora de la película Magnolia (Dir: Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999)
If you feel something that bothers
maybe, sometimes
you want to cover it
instead of seeing it right in front
or little by little, and thresh it out.
Suddenly, a lighning
like home warmth
in a winter day
a coffee with a friend,
riding the bicycle everyday,
a brief call from your bother,
make you perceive
how much you needed
a good conversation.
To feel at home.
That´s all.
*Wise Up is a song by Aimee Mann (1996), part of the official soundtrack of Magnolia (Dir: Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999)
Forever Changes - Love (1967)
Love is an American rock band formed in Los Angeles in 1965. Led by Arthur Lee, the band's primary songwriter, they were one of the first racially diverse American rock bands. Their sound incorporated styles including psychedelic rock, folk rock and garage.
Love would come to be praised by critics as their third album, Forever Changes (1967) became generally regarded as one of the best albums of the 1960s.
Forever Changes is their third studio album, released in November 1967 by Elektra Records. The album saw the group embrace a subtler folk-influenced sound based around acoustic guitars and orchestral arrangements, while primary songwriter Arthur Lee explored darker themes alluding to mortality and his growing disillusionment with the era's counterculture. It was the final album recorded by the original band lineup; after its completion, guitarist Bryan MacLean left the group acrimoniously, and Lee subsequently dismissed the other members.
Forever Changes had only moderate success on the album charts upon release, peaking at No. 154 in the US and No. 24 in the UK. In subsequent years, it has become recognized as an influential document of 1960s psychedelia and named among the greatest albums of all time by a variety of publications.
Side one
1. Alone Again Or (September 10, 1967) 3:18
2. A House Is Not a Motel (August 11 & September 10, 1967) 3:32
3. Andmoreagain (June 9, 12 & August 11, 1967) 3:22
4. The Daily Planet (June 9–10 & September 25, 1967) 3:31
5. Old Man (August 12 & September 25, 1967) 3:03
6. The Red Telephone (August 12 & September 21, 25, 1967) 4:46
Side two
7. Maybe the People Would Be the Times or Between Clark and Hilldale (September 10, 1967) 3:35
8. Live and Let Live (August 11, 1967) 5:28
9. The Good Humor Man He Sees Everything Like This (August 11, 1967) 3:09
10. Bummer in the Summer (August 12, 1967) 2:25
11. You Set the Scene (August 12, 1967) 6:50
Forever Changes is their third studio album, released in November 1967 by Elektra Records. The album saw the group embrace a subtler folk-influenced sound based around acoustic guitars and orchestral arrangements, while primary songwriter Arthur Lee explored darker themes alluding to mortality and his growing disillusionment with the era's counterculture. It was the final album recorded by the original band lineup; after its completion, guitarist Bryan MacLean left the group acrimoniously, and Lee subsequently dismissed the other members.
Forever Changes had only moderate success on the album charts upon release, peaking at No. 154 in the US and No. 24 in the UK. In subsequent years, it has become recognized as an influential document of 1960s psychedelia and named among the greatest albums of all time by a variety of publications.
Side one
1. Alone Again Or (September 10, 1967) 3:18
2. A House Is Not a Motel (August 11 & September 10, 1967) 3:32
3. Andmoreagain (June 9, 12 & August 11, 1967) 3:22
4. The Daily Planet (June 9–10 & September 25, 1967) 3:31
5. Old Man (August 12 & September 25, 1967) 3:03
6. The Red Telephone (August 12 & September 21, 25, 1967) 4:46
Side two
7. Maybe the People Would Be the Times or Between Clark and Hilldale (September 10, 1967) 3:35
8. Live and Let Live (August 11, 1967) 5:28
9. The Good Humor Man He Sees Everything Like This (August 11, 1967) 3:09
10. Bummer in the Summer (August 12, 1967) 2:25
11. You Set the Scene (August 12, 1967) 6:50
Partly Fiction : Harry Dean Stanton (2013) David Lynch, Wim Wenders, and more
| 1 | Blue Bayou | 3:35 | |
| 2 | Everybody's Talkin' | 2:48 | |
| 3 | She Thinks I Still Care | 3:12 | |
| 4 | Cancion Mixteca (New Version) | 2:42 | |
| 5 | When I Get My Rewards | 4:53 | |
| 6 | Promised Land | 4:36 | |
| 7 | He'll Have To Go | 3:36 | |
| 8 | Help Me Make It Through The Night | 1:47 | |
| 9 | Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain | 2:28 | |
| 10 | Tennessee Whiskey | 2:20 | |
| 11 | Hands On The Wheel | 3:21 | |
| 12 | Danny Boy |
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye - Leonard Cohen
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you
But now it's come to distances and both of us must try
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time
Walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
You know my love goes with you as your love stays with me
It's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea
But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you
But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you
But now it's come to distances and both of us must try
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time
Walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
You know my love goes with you as your love stays with me
It's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea
But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you
But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye
El aguaribay florecido - Juan L. Ortiz (1951) / Música: Edgardo Cardozo (2012)
Muchachas de ojos de flores y de labios de flores.
En la sombra exhalada —¿de qué su dulce hálito?—
los vestidos ligeros, muy ligeros, con pintas.
Arde de abejas el aguaribay, arde.
Ríen los ojos, los labios, hacia las islas azules
a través de la cortina
de los racimos
pálidos.
Ríen los ojos, los labios. ¿Veis las muchachas o es
la tenue sombra ebria
y bordoneada
que se alucina de muselinas claras
y de otras flores vivas —extrañas flores vivas—
riendo, riendo, riendo hacia las islas?
Muchachas de ojos de flores y de labios de flores.
Arde de abejas el aguaribay, arde.
Pequeño vals Vienés - Federico García Lorca (1940) / Take This Waltz - Leonard Cohen (1986)
En Viena hay diez muchachas,
un hombro donde solloza la muerte
y un bosque de palomas disecadas.
Hay un fragmento de la mañana
en el museo de la escarcha.
Hay un salón con mil ventanas.
¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals con la boca cerrada.
Este vals, este vals, este vals,
de sí, de muerte y de coñac
que moja su cola en el mar.
Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero,
con la butaca y el libro muerto,
por el melancólico pasillo,
en el oscuro desván del lirio,
en nuestra cama de la luna
y en la danza que sueña la tortuga.
¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals de quebrada cintura.
En Viena hay cuatro espejos
donde juegan tu boca y los ecos.
Hay una muerte para piano
que pinta de azul a los muchachos.
Hay mendigos por los tejados.
Hay frescas guirnaldas de llanto.
¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals que se muere en mis brazos.
Porque te quiero, te quiero, amor mío,
en el desván donde juegan los niños,
soñando viejas luces de Hungría
por los rumores de la tarde tibia,
viendo ovejas y lirios de nieve
por el silencio oscuro de tu frente.
¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals del "Te quiero siempre".
En Viena bailaré contigo
con un disfraz que tenga
cabeza de río.
¡Mira qué orilla tengo de jacintos!
Dejaré mi boca entre tus piernas,
mi alma en fotografías y azucenas,
y en las ondas oscuras de tu andar
quiero, amor mío, amor mío, dejar,
violín y sepulcro, las cintas del vals.
y un bosque de palomas disecadas.
Hay un fragmento de la mañana
en el museo de la escarcha.
Hay un salón con mil ventanas.
¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals con la boca cerrada.
Este vals, este vals, este vals,
de sí, de muerte y de coñac
que moja su cola en el mar.
Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero,
con la butaca y el libro muerto,
por el melancólico pasillo,
en el oscuro desván del lirio,
en nuestra cama de la luna
y en la danza que sueña la tortuga.
¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals de quebrada cintura.
En Viena hay cuatro espejos
donde juegan tu boca y los ecos.
Hay una muerte para piano
que pinta de azul a los muchachos.
Hay mendigos por los tejados.
Hay frescas guirnaldas de llanto.
¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals que se muere en mis brazos.
Porque te quiero, te quiero, amor mío,
en el desván donde juegan los niños,
soñando viejas luces de Hungría
por los rumores de la tarde tibia,
viendo ovejas y lirios de nieve
por el silencio oscuro de tu frente.
¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals del "Te quiero siempre".
En Viena bailaré contigo
con un disfraz que tenga
cabeza de río.
¡Mira qué orilla tengo de jacintos!
Dejaré mi boca entre tus piernas,
mi alma en fotografías y azucenas,
y en las ondas oscuras de tu andar
quiero, amor mío, amor mío, dejar,
violín y sepulcro, las cintas del vals.
There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry
There's a lobby with nine hundred windows
There's a tree where the doves go to die
There's a piece that was torn from the morning
And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz with the clamp on it's jaws
Oh I want you, I want you, I want you
On a chair with a dead magazine
In the cave at the tip of the lily
In some hallway where love's never been
On a bed where the moon has been sweating
In a cry filled with footsteps and sand
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take its broken waist in your hand
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With it's very own breath of brandy and Death
Dragging it's tail in the sea
There's a concert hall in Vienna
Where your mouth had a thousand reviews
There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking
They've been sentenced to death by the blues
Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
With a garland of freshly cut tears?
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz it's been dying for years
There's an attic where children are playing
Where I've got to lie down with you soon
In a dream of Hungarian lanterns
In the mist of some sweet afternoon
And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow
All your sheep and your lilies of snow
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay
Take this waltz, take this waltz
With its "I'll never forget you, you know!"
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz ...
With its very own breath of brandy and death
Dragging its tail in the sea
And I'll dance with you in Vienna
I'll be wearing a river's disguise
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder
My mouth on the dew of your thighs
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook
With the photographs there, and the moss
And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty
My cheap violin and my cross
And you'll carry me down on your dancing
To the pools that you lift on your wrist
Oh my love, Oh my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It's yours now. It's all that there is
{Instrumental}
(Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay)
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)