A Mí No Me Hablen de Tango

On this night of whims and revelry,
I don't know why they're going to talk to me about tango.
If in the gates of Palermo I was like the boss,
playing taba and milonga.
And in the mistonga Sunday in the corrals
I was respected like in so many carnivals.
So many dear memories!
How can I forget?

Where did my old house go,
with its wisterias and balcony?
And that youthful whisper
moistened with emotion
behind the bars.
Patio of uneven stones
under the shade of the grapevine
with my guitar and my song.
If I feel like squeezing
my heart!

I never want to boast about my status
but I don't know why they're going to talk to me about tango
With fancy pants and military heels,
I must have taken over stops!
In the early hours of whims and revelry,
what is danced is anything but tango.
Tango was what The Mocho and The Cachafaz used to dance.

Let's see, serve more drinks,
to be able to forget!