Malena

Malena sings the tango like no one else
and in every verse she puts her heart.
Her voice perfumes the suburb's weeds,
Malena has the sorrow of a damn accordion.
Maybe back in her childhood her voice like a lark
took on that dark tone of the alley,
or perhaps that romance that she only mentions
when she gets sad with alcohol.
Malena sings the tango with a shadowy voice,
Malena has the sorrow of a damn accordion.

Your song
has the cold of the last encounter.
Your song
becomes bitter in the salt of memory.
I don't know
if your voice is the flower of a sorrow,
I only know that to the sound of your tangos, Malena,
I feel you're kinder,
kinder than me.

Your eyes are dark like oblivion,
your lips tight like resentment,
your hands two doves feeling cold,
your veins have the blood of an accordion.
Your tangos are abandoned creatures
that cross over the mud of the alley,
when all the doors are closed
and the ghosts of the song bark.
Malena sings the tango with a broken voice,
Malena has the sorrow of a damn accordion.