Tu diagnóstico
Tu diagnóstico (Your Diagnosis) is the title of a tango vals written and composed by José Betinotti.
Lyrics writer(s):
The poet feels ill with pain over the parting of his beloved. However, in spite of all the undeserved sorrows she caused to him, he’s free of hard feelings towards her; much to the contrary, he wishes her well and even offers her his friendship.
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Lyrics
Tu diagnóstico es sencillo,
sé que no tengo remedio;
y sé que estoy deshauciado
por tu esperanza y mi anhelo.
¡Qué vamos a hacer, mi alma!
Adoraré tus recuerdos,
rogaré que seas mi amiga,
ya que otra dicha no tengo.
De quererte como ansiaba
porque olvidarte no puedo;
que aunque no te vea nunca,
eternamente te veo
con los ojos de la mente
y hasta en la idea te llevo,
y a cada instante te extraño,
aunque ya no soy tu dueño.
Yo no me explico la causa;
para mí esto es un misterio,
que me sorprenda la aurora
sin conciliar con el sueño.
¡Y que tú seas tan mala
con el que te fue sincero!
¡Y eso que tú me juraste,
una tarde, amor eterno!
Mi corazón ya no ama,
el pobre se encuentra ajeno;
hoy te amo con la cabeza,
quiera Dios no te contagie
¡con la locura del genio!
La locura de este ciego
porque entonces tú sabrías
lo que es sufrir en infierno...
Y como te quiero tanto,
que no lo sufras, prefiero;
ya ves que no soy tan malo:
desde que te vi fui bueno
por quien tuve mis desvelos
y lo seré mientras viva.
¡Qué me habrán hecho tus ojos
que me encuentro tan enfermo!
Your diagnosis is simple,
I know there’s no cure for me;
I know I’m hopelessly ill
because of your hope and my longing.
What’s there to do, my soul!
I’ll treasure the memories of you
and beg you to be my friend,
since I have no other joy but that.
To love you as I yearned to,
because I can’t forget you
and even though I’ll never see you again,
I eternally see you
with my mind’s eye
and I even carry you in my ideas,
and miss you at every moment
even though I don’t own you anymore.
I can’t find an explanation for what caused it
I can’t explain to myself the cause...
To me this is a mystery,
that the dawn should surprise me
without having got any sleep.
And that you should be so mean
to the one who was true to you!...
And to think that you swore to me,
one afternoon, eternal love!
My heart doesn’t love anymore
and the poor finds himself to be someone else.
Today I love you with the head,
may God wish I don’t infect you
with this temper’s madness,
with this blind man’s madness!
Because you’d then know
what it is to suffer in hell...
And since I love you so much,
that you don’t suffer from it, I prefer;
you see, I’m not that bad:
ever since I saw you I’ve been good
for the one I’ve lost much sleep...
and I’ll remain so while I live.
What have your eyes done to me
that I’m so ill!