Amor Perdido
Carlos Gardel
Lost Love
Pretty girl with a cheerful spirit
Who in the blooms of the backstreets,
Never knows which path to take
Where they offer her, good or bad.
How many singers recall her glory
The sad story of the backstreets,
How many guitars play for her
Under the dizzying haze of drunkenness.
The youth have gone crazy,
They fight over her, fierce and brutal,
Today they brawled and blood was spilled
Because of the siren of the backstreets.
Today on the island of the slaves
One keeps watch for when she'll come out,
They say she cries for her lost love,
The tragic muse of the backstreets.
And in the winter, when the snow
Fills her mortal soul with cold,
She writes verses, composes styles
For the infamous one of the backstreets.
Pretty girl with a cheerful spirit
Who in the blooms of the backstreets,
Never knows which path to take
Where they offer her, good or bad.
