" My man dance the tango. At night, when for many it's time to retire, there is a local bad to fear. And 'here until late at night I come to see my man dancing. The dark street, the houses the windows have some light goes out, the streets very tight and made of stone, the last lane, hide the entry over a filthy tent, dancing in here my man. He knows that there are always ignores me but for him it's just music, it's only the tables that held under beats and heels. Betrays me dancing with women, the real ones that dance with him, making love with him, while everyone watches, and myself.
Inside there's smoke all around and music forever, the day never came, the light here noni moves well. Smoke and music, the smell and taste of red wine, and the sweat of the warm people, and the food. It 's a hood that makes the atmosphere in which he dances and I look far away, when he cheats on me, but I have a knife with me, I have a knife with me that nobody sees. "
- drops, the You yourself know that this evening is not for sleeping.
- To make it all easy words, the facts, that does not know hold.
- This evening we will all the facts you want, we'll have so many that you can tell for days, and only the most important, because you would not have the time to say them all.
- Words, as always.
- Play, play the tango. It 's a distant but loud music, just feel it. They are the voices of a country halfway around the world. The musicians there, here are dying of nostalgia and their tango suffers and makes money. Sad music for those who want to escape, but also return, who knows what the homeless home.
- Who is without a future?
- This evening, their future is only the applause at the end of the music, while continuing to pay off the sweat a little longer playing the last notes in disarray, the best, still steeped in the song just ended.
- I'm just notes.
- Who made, who plays, the listener, the last notes are all blown in the air like soap bubbles, break away, and a few drops on. So mix in a precise moment the joys, pain, boredom and bags of joy for most people oceans away, and so different destinies, some marked.
- I am interested in only the matters of the heart.
- but also of politics, and why not, of freedom. Each has its own way to express it and those who did not, and who should conquistarsela, then the tango takes very deep meanings, when to say it like it is can not be or you fail.
Blood sweat and sadly ending in these sounds that cease only when there are forces, but as soon as you shoot, it starts another song, another round, many stories in a single all-encompassing discourse.
- From here I can see where they play, I sense also their movements, but not well.
- Feel the words? What they say, what's the story?
- often sing a song, I asked around if anyone knows, I translate, and finally an old man, certainly one of them, with some of my words and many of his tongue, he explained that the tango is called:
Mi hombre es un Tangier.
"My man dances il tango. La sera quando per molti è l’ora di ritirarsi, c’è un locale, brutto da paura. ...”
0 comments:
Post a Comment