The last lines of the song "Chapaleando Barro" are a bit mysterious. Lyricist Celedonio Flores speaks of "the anguished sorrow of that blind man immortalized by Carriego." As noted in my version of the song, the phrase appears to be a reference to Evaristo Carriego's poem, Has Vuelto. Tango Decoder's translation of the first stanza is below; original en castellano follows.
From Has vuelto (You've returned)
You've returned, organillo.* On the sidewalk
there's laughter. You've returned, tired and fretful as before.*
The blind man waits for you / most nights seated at the door. He's quiet and he listens. Faint
memories of distant things,
he recalls in silence, of things
from the days when his eyes had tomorrows,
of when he was young...a sweetheart...who knows!
NOTE
*organillo: The organillo is a portable musical instrument of Spanish origin, a cousin and more or less contemporary of the Argentine organito. Both are played by turning a crank. The organillo, however, is a kind of mechanical piano, while the South American organito is an aerophone, a bellows-powered wind instrument utilizing flute-like pipes similar to those in a church organ. Carriego seems to prefer the word organillo, although the poem almost certainly refers to an organito and/or its operator, the organillero. Organitos were common in the arrabal evoked by Carriego's poetry; organillos were virtually unknown.
*tired and fretful: llorón y cansado. The organito itself has a sort of whiny, sorrowful, refractory sound and it is difficult to maintain an even tempo. Also, turning the organito's crank requires a certain amount of effort. Turning it for a few hours a day, and wheeling or carrying the instrument from place to place, would likely render its operator tired and fretful. The characterization "tired and fretful," then, is doubly apt. (Upon reflection, I realize that I might have translated llorón as "cranky"—a neat pun.)
See also Tango Decoder's post on the organito, here.
[en castellano]
Has vuelto, organillo. En la acera
hay risas. Has vuelto llorón y cansado
como antes.
El ciego te espera
las más de las noches sentado
a la puerta. Calla y escucha. Borrosas
memorias de cosas lejanas
evoca en silencio, de cosas
de cuando sus ojos tenían mañanas,
de cuando era joven... la novia... ¡quién sabe!
Photo: Evaristo Carriego
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