La última curda

Too bad, bandoneon,
my heart
your hoarse tough curse...
Your tear of rum
takes me
to the deep underworld
where the mud rebels.
I know, don't tell me, you're right!,
life is an absurd wound,
and everything, everything is so fleeting
that it's a binge, nothing else!
my confession.

Tell me your sentence,
tell me your failure,
don't you see the pain
that has wounded me?
And simply talk to me
about that absent love
after a scrap of oblivion.
I know that it hurts you!
I know it harms me
to cry out my wine sermon!
But it's the old love
that trembles, bandoneon,
looking for a liquor to numb,
the binge that in the end
ends the show
pulling a curtain over the heart.

A bit of memory and bitterness
drips from your slow grumble.
Your liquor swirls and drives
the left-handed herd
when pouring the last binge.
Close the window
that burns the sun
its slow snail of dream,
don't you see I come from a country
that is always forgotten, gray,
after the alcohol?...