A quién le puede importar?

Moan, bandoneon,
serious and grumbling
in the nocturnal revelry.
In my heart
your hoarse sound
deepens my sorrow.
With your sentimental shavings
you entangle my old pain,
an old pain that has left me
in love,
cornered,
and forgotten forever.
Without a single caress
to ease my sadness,
his wicked laughter haunts me
and haunts me,
while your requiem continues, bandoneon!

Who could care
hey bandoneon! that I have been good.
Who could care
about someone else's soap opera.
If to her who was my love
my dejection didn't matter.
Who could care
hey bandoneon! about my suffering.

Play less gray
tango, for me.
I know I will never find her.
I will go out to dance with you
to disguise
the drama I carry inside.
I will deceive myself in other arms,
I will be stunned by other mouths
even though her eyes and her laughter
haunt me
and follow me
and tell me that I love her.
I will go erase the ghost
of that always attentive love,
thus ends this lament
and the torment of this cruel
suffering...
Bandoneon!