La Violeta
Con el codo en la mesa mugrienta
Y la vista clavada en un sueño
Piensa el tano Domingo Polenta
En el drama de su inmigración
Y en la sucia cantina que canta
La nostalgia del viejo paese
Desafina su ronca garganta
Ya curtida de vino carlón
E La Violeta la va, la va, la va
La va sul campo che lei si sognaba
Ch’era suo yinyín que guardándola estaba
Él también busca su soñado bien
Desde aquel día, tan lejano ya
Que con su carga de ilusión saliera
Como La Violeta que la va, la va
Canzoneta de pago lejano
Que idealiza la sucia taberna
Y que brilla en los ojos del tano
Con la perla de algún lagrimón
La aprendió cuando vino con otros
Encerrado en la panza de un buque
Y es con ella, metiendo batuque
Que consuela su desilusión
The Violet
With the elbow on the dirty table
And the gaze fixed on a dream
The Italian Domingo Polenta thinks
About the drama of his immigration
And in the dirty tavern that sings
The nostalgia of the old country
His hoarse throat goes out of tune
Already toughened by cheap wine
And The Violet goes, goes, goes
She goes to the field she dreamed of
That was her yinyín who was watching over her
He also seeks his dreamed good
Since that day, so distant now
When with his load of illusion he set out
Like The Violet that goes, goes
Distant folk song
That idealizes the dirty tavern
And shines in the eyes of the Italian
With the pearl of some tear
He learned it when he came with others
Locked in the belly of a ship
And it is with her, making batuque
That he consoles his disillusionment