Текст и перевод песни Cacho Castaña - La Gata Varela - Live In Buenos Aires / 2016

La Gata Varela - Live In Buenos Aires / 2016

La gata sale a cantar, envuelta en adrenalina
Y perfuma el esenario, con inciensos y licinas
Con un codigo de tango, sin libros y sin escuela
Y te lo dice pintando, con colores de acuarela.

El mejor de los cantores, tiene la vieja enseñanza
De callar cuando se debe y de hablar cuando hace falta
Gata mojada de lluvia que aligerando los vicios
Sale a andar por las cornizas
Sin caer al precipicio

Parece una atorranta cuando canta
Parece que se deja y no se deja
Te da la sensación cuando camina
Que en vez de una mujer, llegan dos minas
Parece medio loca y que provoca
Porque el tango en su boca es un gemido
Parece que ya nada le sorprende
Parece saber todo de la vida
Parece, pero no es lo que parece
Es una gata herida

Los que cantan a los gritos seguiran siendo aprendices
Porque el tango no se canta, porque al tango se lo dice
Con la pausa y el silencio al que aluden los poetas
Despacito poco a poco, para que entiendan la letra
Cuando el publico no escucha, la gata tiene el orgullo
De tener la mente fresca, en el medio del barullo
Yo tambien escribo y canto sin libros y sin escuela
Despacito poco a poco
Como la gata Varela...

Parece una atorranta cuando canta
Parece que se deja y no se deja
Te da la sensación cuando camina
Que en vez de una mujer, llegan dos minas
Parece medio loca y que provoca
Porque el tango en su boca es un gemido
Parece que ya nada le sorprende
Parece saber todo de la vida
Parece, pero no es lo que parece
Es una gata herida

La Gata Varela - Live In Buenos Aires / 2016

The cat goes out to sing, wrapped in adrenaline
And perfumes the stage, with incense and licina
With a tango code, without books and without school
And she tells you painting, with watercolor colors.

The best of the singers, has the old teaching
To shut up when it is necessary and to speak when it is necessary
Cat wet with rain that lightening the vices
Go out to walk through the cornices
Without falling into the precipice

She seems like a bum when she sings
It seems that she lets herself go and does not let herself go
She gives you the feeling when she walks
That instead of one woman, two mines arrive
She seems half crazy and that provokes
Because the tango in her mouth is a moan
It seems that nothing surprises her anymore
She seems to know everything about life
It seems, but it is not what it seems
She is a wounded cat

Those who sing to the screams will still be apprentices
Because tango is not sung, because tango is said
With the pause and the silence to which the poets allude
Slowly little by little, so that they understand the lyrics
When the audience does not listen, the cat has the pride
To have a fresh mind in the middle of a ruckus
I also write and sing without books and without school
Slowly little by little
Like the cat Varela...

She seems like a bum when she sings
It seems that she lets herself go and does not let herself go
She gives you the feeling when she walks
That instead of one woman, two mines arrive
She seems half crazy and that provokes
Because the tango in her mouth is a moan
It seems that nothing surprises her anymore
She seems to know everything about life
It seems, but it is not what it seems
She is a wounded cat