Paroles et traduction Aníbal Troilo - Temblando

Temblando

Linda estaba la tarde que la vide
El patio de su rancho acomodando.
Y aunque guapo pa' todo me sentia
No pude hablar, y me quede temblando.

Estaba como nunca la habia visto;
Vestido livianito, de saraza,
Con el pelo volcado entre los hombros,
Era una virgen que encontre en la casa.

Ni ella ni yo, ninguno dijo nada
Con sus ojazos me siguio quemando,
Dejo la escoba que tenia en la mano,
Me quiso hablar... y se quedo temblando.

Era el recuerdo del amor primero,
Amor nacido en nuestra edad temprana
Como esas flores rusticas del campo
Que nacen de la noche a la mañana.

Amor que esta oculto en los adobes
De su rancho paterno, tan secillo
Y en la corteza del ombu del patio
Escrito con la punta del cuchillo.

Me di vuelta, pisando despacito,
Como quien desconfia de una trampa
Envolviendo recuerdos y emociones
Entre las listas de mi poncho pampa.

No se que me paso, monté a caballo
Y sali galopando a rienda suelta
Con todos los recuerdos y emociones
Que en las listas del poncho saque envueltas.

Linda estaba la tarde que la vide
El patio de su rancho acomodando,
La tarde que aunque guapo me sentia
No pude hablarla y me quede temblando.

Quivering

The afternoon that I saw her, she was lovely
Tidying up the patio of her ranch.
And although I felt handsome enough for anything
I couldn't speak, and I stood there quivering.

She was like I had never seen her before;
Lightly dressed, in a cotton dress,
With her hair flowing over her shoulders,
She was a virgin I found in the house.

Neither she nor I said anything
With her big eyes she kept burning me,
She dropped the broom she had in her hand,
She wanted to speak to me... and she stood there quivering.

It was the memory of our first love,
A love born in our youth
Like those rustic flowers of the countryside
That are born from evening to morning.

A love that is hidden in the adobe
Of her modest, paternal ranch
And in the bark of the ombu tree in the patio
Written with the tip of a knife.

I turned around, treading softly,
Like someone who is wary of a trap
Wrapping up memories and emotions
In the stripes of my poncho.

I don't know what happened to me, I mounted my horse
And I rode off at full gallop
With all the memories and emotions
That I had wrapped up in the stripes of my poncho.

The afternoon that I saw her, she was lovely
Tidying up the patio of her ranch,
The afternoon that although I felt handsome enough
I couldn't speak to her and I stood there quivering.