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  • Текст песни Francisco Canaro - Mi Noche Triste

    Исполнитель: Francisco Canaro
    Название песни: Mi Noche Triste
    Дата добавления: 19.01.2016 | 04:10:07
    Просмотров: 25
    0 чел. считают текст песни верным
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    Здесь расположен текст песни Francisco Canaro - Mi Noche Triste, перевод и видео.

    С этой песней обычно слушают:

    MI NOCHE TRISTE - Грустная ночь
    Первое синтеминтальное танго
    My sad night (1917)
    Music by: Samuel Castriota
    Lyrics by: Pascual Contursi

    Gardel first recorded this song with the guitar of Jose Ricardo (acoustic system), on an Odeon label (1917). Gardel re-recorded it with Odeon in April 1930 (Мне она больше по нраву).

    Percanta que me amuraste
    en lo mejor de mi vida
    dejandome el alma herida
    y splin en el corazon,
    sabiendo que te queria,
    que vos eras mi alegria
    y mi sueño abrasador...
    Para mi ya no hay consuelo
    y por eso me encurdelo
    pa' olvidarme de tu amor.

    Cuando voy a mi cotorro
    lo veo desarreglado,
    todo triste, abandonado,
    me dan ganas de llorar,
    y me paso largo rato
    campaneando tu retrato
    pa' poderme consolar.

    De noche cuando me acuesto
    no puedo cerrar la puerta
    porque dejandola abierta
    me hago ilusion que volves.
    Siempre traigo bizcochitos
    pa' tomar con matecito
    como cuando estabas vos...
    Y si vieras la catrera
    como se pone cabrera
    cuando no nos ve a los dos.

    Ya no hay en el bulin
    aquellos lindos frasquitos
    adornados con moñitos
    todos de un mismo color,
    y el espejo esta empañado,
    si parece que ha llorado
    por la ausencia de tu amor.

    La guitarra en el ropero
    todavia esta colgada;
    nadie en ella canta nada
    ni hace sus cuerdas vibrar...
    Y la lampara del cuarto
    tambien tu ausencia ha sentido
    porque su luz no ha querido
    mi noche triste alumbrar.

    Woman, you dumped me
    at the prime of my life
    leaving my soul wounded
    and dullness in my heart,
    knowing that I loved you,
    that you were my joy
    and my burning dream...
    There is no solace for me,
    that is why I’m getting drunk
    to forget about you love.

    When I return to my room
    I find it all messed up,
    very sad, abandoned,
    I feel like crying,
    and I spend long hours
    staring at your portrait
    to find solace.

    At night when I go to bed
    I can't close the door
    because leaving it open
    I make believe that you're back.
    I always bring cookies
    to accompany the mate
    like if you were still here.
    And if could see the bed
    how upsets it gets
    when it does not see us both.

    There are no longer in the room
    those pretty little bottles
    decorated with ribbons,
    all of the same color,
    and the mirror looks foggy,
    it seems that it has cried
    for the absence of your love.

    The guitar in the closet
    is still hanging
    nobody ever sings anything
    or makes its strings vibrate...
    And the lamp in the room
    also has felt your absence
    because its light has not wanted
    to light up my sorrowful night.

    Arrabal: slums in the outskirts of the city.

    Percanta: how the ruffian called his lover

    Porteños: those from the port; name given to those born in the capital city of Buenos Aires.
    MI NOCHE TRISTE - Грустная ночь
    Первое сентиментальное танго
    My sad night (1917)
    Music by: Samuel Castriota
    Lyrics by: Pascual Contursi
    Gardel first recorded this song with the guitar of Jose Ricardo (acoustic system), on an Odeon label (1917). Gardel re-recorded it with Odeon in April 1930 (Мне она больше по нраву).
    Percanta que me amuraste
    en lo mejor de mi vida
    dejandome el alma herida
    y splin en el corazon,
    sabiendo que te queria,
    que vos eras mi alegria
    y mi sueño abrasador...
    Para mi ya no hay consuelo
    y por eso me encurdelo
    pa' olvidarme de tu amor.
    Cuando voy a mi cotorro
    lo veo desarreglado,
    todo triste, abandonado,
    me dan ganas de llorar,
    y me paso largo rato
    campaneando tu retrato
    pa' poderme consolar.
    De noche cuando me acuesto
    no puedo cerrar la puerta
    porque dejandola abierta
    me hago ilusion que volves.
    Siempre traigo bizcochitos
    pa' tomar con matecito
    como cuando estabas vos...
    Y si vieras la catrera
    como se pone cabrera
    cuando no nos ve a los dos.
    Ya no hay en el bulin
    aquellos lindos frasquitos
    adornados con moñitos
    todos de un mismo color,
    y el espejo esta empañado,
    si parece que ha llorado
    por la ausencia de tu amor.
    La guitarra en el ropero
    todavia esta colgada;
    nadie en ella canta nada
    ni hace sus cuerdas vibrar...
    Y la lampara del cuarto
    tambien tu ausencia ha sentido
    porque su luz no ha querido
    mi noche triste alumbrar.
    Woman, you dumped me
    at the prime of my life
    leaving my soul wounded
    and dullness in my heart,
    knowing that I loved you,
    that you were my joy
    and my burning dream...
    There is no solace for me,
    that is why I’m getting drunk
    to forget about you love.
    When I return to my room
    I find it all messed up,
    very sad, abandoned,
    I feel like crying,
    and I spend long hours
    staring at your portrait
    to find solace.
    At night when I go to bed
    I can't close the door
    because leaving it open
    I make believe that you're back.
    I always bring cookies
    to accompany the mate
    like if you were still here.
    And if could see the bed
    how upsets it gets
    when it does not see us both.
    There are no longer in the room
    those pretty little bottles
    decorated with ribbons,
    all of the same color,
    and the mirror looks foggy,
    it seems that it has cried
    for the absence of your love.
    The guitar in the closet
    is still hanging
    nobody ever sings anything
    or makes its strings vibrate...
    And the lamp in the room
    also has felt your absence
    because its light has not wanted
    to light up my sorrowful night.
    Arrabal: slums in the outskirts of the city.
    Percanta: how the ruffian called his lover
    Porteños: those from the port; name given to those born in the capital city of Buenos Aires.

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