Текст и перевод песни Cacho Castaña - La Gata Varela

La Gata Varela

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

The Cat Varela

The cat goes out to sing, wrapped in adrenaline
And perfumes the essene, with incense and licins
With a tango code, no books and no school
And he tells you by painting, with watercolor colors.

The best of the singers, has the old teaching
To keep quiet when you should and to speak when you need to
Wet cat of rain that lightening the vices
He goes out to walk by the cornices
Without falling off the cliff

She looks like a cunt when she sings
It seems to be left and not left
It gives you the feeling when he walks
That instead of a 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 him anymore
He seems to know everything about life
It seems, but it's not what it seems
She's a wounded cat.

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

She looks like a cunt when she sings
It seems to be left and not left
It gives you the feeling when he walks
That instead of a 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 him anymore
He seems to know everything about life
It seems, but it's not what it seems
She's a wounded cat.