"If I knew how to cry blood, I’d have to open up a hundred eyes to let out this sorrow that consumes me still."
SORBOS AMARGOS (Bitter gulps)
Letra de Agustín Irusta
Letra de Roberto Fugazot
Musica de Lucio Demare
For Theresa Faus
• Trio Argentino w/ Agustín Irusta (n/d)
• Orquesta Lucio Demare w/ Juan Carlos Miranda (1942)
• Francisco Lomuto w/ Fernando Díaz (1932)
• Osvaldo y Coca dance Sorbos Amargos
• Osvaldo y Coca otra vez!
[Photo: Fugazot, Demare, & Irusta]
The scene: A seedy bar down in the El Bajo district of Buenos Aires, down by the docks, ca. 1928. Two men, old friends, sit at a corner table, drinking quietly for a couple of hours. At last, one of them begins to lament the loss of his great love. From time to time he pauses, raises his glass to his lips, and takes a gulp of bitter booze....
!Viejo!...
si vos supieras cuantas noches,
desde mi lecho, contemplo
la puerta por donde salió,
aquella tarde
que amorosa y con un beso,
para un mentido paseo
con un adiós se marchó.
Old pal!...
if you only knew how many nights,
from my bed, I stare at the door
she shut behind her
that evening
when lovingly, with a kiss,
and pretending to go for a walk,
she said goodbye and left me for good.
Nunca...
recuerdo haber sufrido tanto
como esa noche, que, en vano,
mi corazón la esperó,
tu, que me viste acariciarla,
viejo amigo...
ya sabrás lo que he sufrido yo.
Never...
do I remember having suffered so much
as that night when
my heart waited for her in vain.
You, who saw how I cherished her,
old friend...
now you must know what I’ve gone through.
Cada cosa es un recuerdo,
cada recuerdo un sollozo,
tanto cariño le tengo,
que hasta en mis venas está.
Each thing is a memory,
each memory a sob,
so much affection I had for her,
that it still runs in my veins.
Si pudiera llorar sangre,
habría de abrirme cien ojos,
para sacarme esta pena,
que consumiéndome va.
If I could cry blood,
I’d have to open up a hundred eyes
to relieve myself of this sorrow
that consumes me still.
Cuantas auroras me vieron,
con la muerte en el semblante,
la esperanza en las pupilas,
y en los labios murmurar,
una palabra de amor,
que me arrancara, el dolor de recordar.
How many dawns saw me,
with a ghastly expression on my face,
hope in my eyes,
and on my lips a muttered
word of love,
that rekindled the pain of memory.
Cuando retorne por aquella puerta,
que tal vez ha de ser nunca,
ha de volver mi corazón a sentir ansia,
de gozar en esta vida,
los placeres que ella brinda,
cuando se ama con pasión.
Should she return by that door,
which probably never will be,
my heart will have to yearn again,
will have to enjoy in this life,
the pleasures it offers
when one loves passionately.
Sueño con imposibles realidades,
viejo amigo y es pasada,
esta cruz de sinsabor,
que nunca sepa mi buena madre,
que la vida me brindó,
caricias de dolor.
I dream of impossible realities,
old friend, and it's gone sour,
this burden of sorrow.
May my loving mother never know
that life gave me
such painful caresses.
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