BARRIO
DE TANGO.

A little stretch of the neighborhood, there in Pompeya, falling asleep beside the railway embankment. A lantern swinging on the crossing barrier and the mystery of farewell the train sows. Dogs barking at the moon. Love hidden behind a gate. And the toads beating their rolls in the pond, and far away, the voice of the bandoneon.

Neighborhood of tango, moon and mystery, faraway streets, what must they be like now! Old friends I no longer even remember today, what became of them, where might they be! Neighborhood of tango, what became of that girl, Juana, the blonde I loved so much. Does she know I suffer, thinking of her, ever since the afternoon I left her? Neighborhood of tango, moon and mystery, through memory I see you again!

A chorus of whistles there on the corner. The card game filling the neighborhood store. And the tragedy of the pale woman next door who never again came out to watch the train. This is how I recall your nights, neighborhood of tango, with the freight wagons entering the yard and the moon splashing through the mud, and far away, the voice of the bandoneon.