Milonga Fina

You declared yourself Fine Milonga
When you left the suburb
The poor calico suit
And the lace of the apron

The red bow you used to wear
So upright, so coquettish
And those guys who brought you
When you went out in style

You no longer show your silhouette
Suburban girl
You left behind the fondness
Poor thing, to your detriment

No longer do you have the mischievous charm
Today you walk down the triumphant street
With a little bitterness
That you disguise with your laughter

To deceive yourself, to forget
All that has already passed
And that boy, who for crying over you
One sad day, poor thing, died

You declared yourself Fine Milonga
When you walked with that fool
Who deceived you with cocaine
And took you to Armenonville

Where to the beat of a tough tango
You were losing touch with reality
And the sweet talk of a tango dancer
Corrupted you with his wickedness