Canta, pajarito
Canta, pajarito (Sing, Little Bird) is the title of a tango written by Oscar Rubens in 1943. The music was composed by Juan José Guichandut.
Contents
Recordings
At the moment, there are no recordings for this song stored in the TangoWiki. If you have sources, add a new recording.
Lyrics
En la soledad
sufriendo está
mi corazón.
Y qué triste estoy
desde esa noche cruel
que el cielo la llevó.
La casa entera enmudeció,
su risa se apagó...
¡Sus pasos y su voz extraño!
Se ha marchitado aquel rosal,
testigo familiar
de nuestro amor de tantos años.
¡Todo ha cambiado desde que se ha ido!
¡Todo está triste desde que no está!
Y el pajarito tan cantor,
unido a mi dolor
ahora ya no canta más.
Canta, canta, pajarito...
Canta, canta tu canción...
¡Ayúdame a calmar
mi pena y mi dolor,
ayúdame a soñar
que está a mi lado!
Canta, canta, pajarito...
Canta, canta, tu canción...
Ya no alumbra el sol
con su fulgor
mi triste hogar.
Ya no besaré
ni nunca gustaré
sus labios de coral.
Ya nunca más he de escuchar
su voz angelical,
ni el timbre de su risa franca,
ni he de sentirme acariciar
con esa suavidad
de aquellas sus dos manos blancas.
¡Todo ha cambiado desde que se ha ido!
¡Todo está triste desde que no está!
Y el pajarito tan cantor,
que sufre como yo
ahora ya no canta más.
In solitude
my heart
is suffering.
And how sad I’ve been
since that cruel night
the sky took her.
The whole house fell silent,
her laughter was put out...
I miss her steps and her voice!
That rose bush has wilted,
familiar witness
of our love of so many years.
Everything’s changed since she left!
Everything’s sad since she’s not here!
And the little bird, such a singer,
tied to my own pain
won’t sing anymore now.
Sing, sing, little bird...
Sing, sing your song...
Help me ease
my sorrow and my pain,
help me dream
that she’s by my side!
Sing, sing, little bird...
Sing, sing your song...
The sun doesn’t light anymore
my sad home
with its brilliance.
I won’t kiss anymore
nor will I ever taste
her coral lips.
Never again will I hear
her angelical voice
nor the timbre of her open laughter.
Neither will I feel myself caressed
by the softness
of those, her two white hands.
Everything’s changed since she left!
Everything’s sad since she’s not here!
And the little bird, such a singer,
now suffers like me,
he won’t sing anymore now.