journal

 

Toast to Pierrot

Have you see Molina
who doesn't come to the bar anymore?
Where's the big doll
that is not in the boulevard?
This is a memories night,
this toast to Pierrot.
Will you come back Mario Benitez,
with your 'maginot' line?

What happens with the porteños

(people from Buenos Aires)
occupying the 'liberaij'?
What the new wave will tell
soaked on champagne?
This is a memories night,
this toast to the union.
There you are Martin Corena,
listening to this song.

I leave, like so many people
that the memory has costumed as saints.
And their history has become illusion.
I find the little bit of sour
that not even the best partiture
could print on my voice.

They leave, like so many people.
Carnival gave them it's quilt,
their figure becomes song.

They have gone, blowing 'candilejas'.
Tonight I have no complaints.
Anyway the one that cries is me.

Don't you remember 'la bruta'
with 'pianito' on the place.
I'll never forget 'el ñato',
imitating 'Dagomar'.
This is a memories night,
this toast to Pierrot.
There are few 'sabaleros' left,
hanging on the bar.

I'm seeing you Benitez,
in the pages of 'El Ring'.
And of course a 'Pincho Lopez'
leaning on a pool table.
This is a memories night,
this toast to Zelmar.
Have you seen Molina,
who doesn't come to the bar anymore?

I leave, I leave, I live leaving.
Tonight the time made me view
in the wine glasses

they gave me an advantage.
I bring, like a vulgar yearning,
the hidden hope of liberals,
the devil have mercy on me.

They leave, they leave, they keep leaving,
downhill the wind shakes them
like leaves of an autumn dream.
I put my glass up, just in case,
sometimes the fortune helps me,
no one knocks on the hall.

Hear the clown that sings
so many pains in his throat,
with his glass of liquor, alone.
Tonight I don't even have a tomb,
anyway the one who sings is me.

Look at the street Pierrot,
faithful mate of the night.
On his cheek a big tear shines.
He had to be all of his life,
alone with his heart.

Speech: They put you on the field without asking if you want to come in. Besides, as a goaly. A whole life filling holes! And if by chance you are good they throw you on the floor and they mark you a penalty!

Hear the clown that sings,
so many pains in his throat,
with his glass of liquor, alone.
Tonight he is not in his clothes.
However, they call him Pierrot.
Look at the street Pierrot.

Brindis por Pierrot

 

¿No lo vieron a Molina

que no pisa mas el bar?

¿Donde está la gran muñeca

que no trilla el bulevar?

Esta noche el de recuerdos,

Este brindis por Pierrot.

¿Volveras Mario Benitez,

con tu linea maginot?

 

¿Que sera de los porteños

ocupando el liberaij?

¿Que dira la meva ola,

empapada de champan?

Esta noche es de recuerdos

Este brindis por la Union

Ahi estas Martin Corena.

Eschuchando esta cancion

 

 

Me voy como se han ido tantos

Que el recuerdo ha disfrazado de santos

Y su historia se ha vuelto ilusión

Descubro el dejo de amargura

Que ni la mejor partitura

Le pudo marcar a mi voz

 

Se van como se han ido tantos

Carnaval les regalo su manto

Su estampa se vuelve cancion

 

Se han ido soplando candilejas

Esta noche no tengo ni quejas

Sin embargo el que llora soy yo

 

¿No se acuerdan de la Bruta

con pianito en su lugar?

No me olvido mas del ñato

Imitando a Dagomar

Esta noche es de recuerdos

Este brindis por Pierrot

Quedan pocos sabaleros

aguantando el mostrador

 

Te estoy viendo a vos Benitez

En las paginas del Ring

Ni que hablar de in Pincho Lopez

Recostado en un casin

Esta noche es de recuerdos

Este brindis por Zelmar

¿No lo vieron a Molina

que no pisa mas el bar?

 

Me voy, me voy, me vivo yendo

Esta noche me hizo vista el tiempo

En las copas me dieron changui

Me llevo como un capricho burdo

La esperanza escondida del zurdo

Que el Diablo se apiade de mi

 

 

Se van, se van, se siguen yendo

Cuesta abajo los sacude el viento

Como hojas de un sueño otoñal

Levanto mi vaso por las dudas

A veces la suerte me ayuda,

Nadie golpea al zaguán

 

Oigan al payaso que canta.

Cuantas penas en su garganta

Junto a su copa de licor, solo,

Esta noche no tengo ni tumba.

Sin embargo el que canta soy yo.

 

Miren al Pierrot callejero

De la noche fiel compañero

En su mejilla un lagrimón brilla

Le ha tocado pasarse, la vida,

A solas con su Corazon

 

Recitado: Te largan a la cancha sin preguntarte si querés entrar.  Por si fuerza poco, de golero.  ¡Toda una vida tapando agujeros! Y si en una de esas salis bueno se tiran al suelo y te cobran penal!

 

 

Oigan al payaso que canta

Cuantas penas en su garganta

Junto a su copa de licor, solo,

Esta noche no luce su ropa

Sin embargo le llaman Pierrot

Miren al Pierrot callejero…

 

I take no credit for either the Spanish or English on this...  I had some difficulties reading Noelia's writing at times...  And she had some difficulty with some of the translation as well..

 

 
 
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