Music by Astor Piazzolla
Lyrics by Horacio Ferrer
Translation by Coby Lubliner

Por las noches, cara sucia
de angelito con bluyín,
vende rosas en las mesas
del boliche de Bachín;
si la luna brilla
sobre la parrilla,
come luna y pan de hollín...

Cada día en su tristeza
que no quiere amanecer,
lo madruga un seis de enero
con la estrella del revés;
y tres reyes gatos
roban sus zapatos,
uno izquierdo y el otro... ¡también!

dame un ramo de voz
así salgo a vender
mis vergüenzas en flor...
Beleame con tres rosas
que duelan a cuenta
del hambre que no te entendí,

Cuando el sol pone a los pibes
delantales de aprender,
él aprende cuánto cero
le quedaba por saber;
y a su madre mira,
yira que te yira,
pero no la quiere ver...

Cada aurora, en la basura
con un pan y un tallarín,
se fabrica un barrilete
para irse… y sigue aquí!
Es un hombre extraño
- niño de mil años -
que por dentro le enreda el piolín...
Evenings with his face all dirty,
Like an angel in blue jeans,
He sells roses at the tables
In the diner of Bachin’s:
If the moon is shining
On the oven lining,
He eats moonlight and burnt beans...

Every day that he doesn’t want to
Wake up ’cause he’s feeling blue,
On Epiphany at sunrise
With the star not shining through;
Three wise cats come rollin’
And his shoes get stolen,
One’s the left one and the other... too!

Little guy,
Give me bunches of voice
So I’ll go out to sell
All my blooming remorse!
Then shoot me with three roses
That hurt on account of
The hunger I tried to deny,
Little guy...

When the sun makes all the school kids
Wear their aprons in a row,
Then he learns how many zeroes
There are that he doesn’t know;
At his mother gawking,
Seeing her streetwalking,
But he doesn’t like the show...

Every morning, from the garbage,
With a noodle and some bread,
He will make himself a kite so
He can leave… but then stops dead!
He’s a strange and wild man,
- Thousand-year-old child man -
Whose inside is tangled like a thread...

Translation © 2004 by Jacob Lubliner

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