Текст и перевод песни Francisco Canaro - De Puro Guapo

De Puro Guapo

A los conciertos que dan los fuelles,
Protestadores en sus gemidos,
Se están luciendo con sus quebradas
Los compadrones en el lugar

Y las chirusas, endomingadas,
En sus miradas tienen el brillo
De la alegría que ha derramado
El tango rante y sentimental.

En medio del conventillo
Se ha parado un compadrito
Que contempla de hito en hito,
La alegre gente en su excitación

No le importa que se baile,
Él a bailar no ha venido;
Busca a aquella que lo ha herido
En medio del corazón.

Y cuando encuentra a la traicionera,
A la ladrona de su ilusión
La mano crispa con ansia fiera
Sobre la masa de su facón

Y, como un tigre, sobre su presa,
Salta ligero y asesta un tajo
Que roja marca deja sangrando
Y el tango muere en el bandoneón.

Y luego, sin darse prisa,
Apartando a los curiosos
Se retira receloso
Entre el murmullo de admiración

Pero apenas dio algunos pasos
Se volvió y con arrebato
Les gritó: de puro guapo
Me he cobrado su traición.

De Puro Guapo

At bellows concerts where the tunes do wail,
With fervent wails their pain they will bewail,
The rakish lads, with swagger all their own,
Are stepping out tonight, their presence known.

And ladies fair, in finery bedecked,
A spark of joy within their eyes reflect.
That which the tango has bestowed so free,
A stirring rhythm, filled with ecstasy.

Within the tenement, a rogue appears,
A dandy with a swagger, void of fear,
He gazes with intent at all who pass,
A lively scene, that stirs him like a blast.

He cares not for the dance, he has a quest,
His soul is wounded, his heart unblest,
He seeks the one who dealt him such a blow,
His heart still bears the scars, a bitter woe.

And when he finds that treacherous, fickle dame,
The thief who stole his dreams, and brought him shame,
His hand will clench, with fierce and savage might,
Upon the hilt of his sharp-edged blade so bright.

Like a tiger pouncing on its helpless prey,
He strikes with lightning speed, he has no delay,
A crimson mark, a wound that bleeds so deep,
The tango's rhythm dies, its melody asleep.

And then, with measured steps, he takes his leave,
Pushing aside the curious, he will not grieve,
He walks away, a touch of fear in stride,
Amidst the murmurs, where his actions preside.

But as he walks, he turns, a sudden thought,
A fiery passion in his eyes, he's caught,
He cries aloud, with swagger and with pride,
As retribution for your treason, I confide,