Baila La Maga (o Verte Bailar)

Dance, sorceress (or seeing you dance) - (Alfredo Zitarrosa)

(Milonga)

Sorceress in black behind the curtain,
all of a sudden a blue spotlight shines on her,
she opens a fine wound in the air
and the dancer is born.

The handsome guy was already waiting,
a murky, blonde offspring of Adam,
muscle and magic, a German delight,
a Tarzan, a bit of a slacker.

Doubtful and discreet butterfly,
the dancer moves toward the athlete,
they seem to have a secret
celestial love date.

Seeing you dance, floating on your toes,
trembling with passion in my seat,
I felt you were my sea and my shore,
your salt, my blood, and my bread.

You came to town on the train by my side,
your golden satin shoes
danced on my cobblestone patio
underneath my laurel tree.

But your kisses were screams,
chains and locks were your bones,
your winged feet, marble and plaster,
your skin, sealed paper.

Thanks for gifting me your honor,
a jam of rare sweetness,
like it was your heart
with a little crimson bow.

Thanks for the sin and the hunger,
for your icy thighs, your flesh,
thanks for forgetting me too,
just as you crossed the platform.