MI BUENOS AIRES QUERIDO (MY BUENOS AIRES)
Music by Carlos Gardel
Lyrics by Alfredo de Pera
Translation by Coby Lubliner
| Mi Buenos Aires querido, cuando yo te vuelva a ver, no habrá mas penas ni olvido.El farolito de la calle en que nací fue el centinela de mis promesas de amor. Bajo su quieta lucecita yo la vi a mi pebeta luminosa como un sol. Hoy que la suerte quiere que te vuelva a ver ciudad porteña de mi único querer y oigo la queja de un bandoneón dentro del pecho pide rienda el corazón.Mi Buenos Aires tierra florida donde mi vida terminaré. Bajo tu amparo no hay desengaños, vuelan los años se olvida el dolor. En caravana los recuerdos pasan como una estela dulce de emoción. Quiero que sepas que al evocarte se van las penas del corazón.La ventanita de mi calle de arrabal donde sonríe una muchachita en flor quiero de nuevo yo volver a contemplar aquellos ojos que acarician al mirar. En la cortada mas maleva una canción dice su ruego de coraje y de pasión una promesa y un suspirar borró una lágrima de pena aquel cantar.Mi Buenos Aires querido cuando yo te vuelva a ver no habrá mas penas ni olvido. |
My Buenos Aires, dear city, When I see you once again, There’s no more forgetting or pity.The little street lamp, standing on my native street, Was there to witness my first promises of love. Its quiet light was shining when I went to meet My lovely sweetheart, glowing like the sun above. Now that my fortune has me seeing you once more, The only city that I’ve ever hankered for, Hearing the plaintive Bandoneon, My heart inside me wants to break out on its own.My Buenos Aires, Land full of flowers, My final hours Will be spent here. No disappointments Under your sky, and The years go by and We forget the pain. Memories chasing One after another, Sweetness of feelings Left along the way. I’ll have you know that Just thinking of you Makes all my heartaches Scatter away.The little window facing my suburban street, Framing the image of a smiling girl so sweet, I want once more to walk beside it and to see Those eyes caressing even as they look at me. And even in the meanest alley there’s a song Of pluck and passion, and its echo rings along. It’s like a promise And like a sigh. A tear of sorrow, but that singing wiped it dry.My Buenos Aires, dear city, When I see you once again, There’s no more forgetting or pity. |