MALENA.

Malena sings the tango like no other, pouring her heart into every verse. Her voice is perfumed with the scent of wild alley-weeds; Malena holds the sorrow of the bandoneon. Perhaps back in childhood, her skylark voice took on that dark, alleyway tone, or maybe it stems from that romance she only mentions when drink makes her sad. Malena sings the tango with a voice of shadow; Malena holds the sorrow of the bandoneon.

Your song holds the chill of a final parting. Your song turns bitter in the salt of memory. I do not know if your voice is the blossom of sorrow; I only know that to the sound of your tangos, Malena, I feel you are kinder— kinder than I am.

Your eyes are dark as oblivion, your lips tight as resentment, your hands like two doves shivering in the cold, your veins run with the blood of the bandoneon. Your tangos are abandoned creatures crossing the mud of the alleyway when all the doors are shut and the song's ghosts are barking. Malena sings the tango with a broken voice; Malena holds the sorrow of the bandoneon.