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Difference between pages "Pudo ser una vida" and "Pueblito de provincia"

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{{Song
 
{{Song
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|Profile='''Pudo ser una vida''' ''(It Could Have Been a Life)'' is the title of a tango written by [[Carlos Bahr]] in 1945. The music was composed by [[Elías Randal]]. This tango mourns the loss of a child, painfully describing the parents' failed hopes and the insurmountable emptiness left if their lives.
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|Profile='''Pueblito de provincia''' ''(Provincial Town)'' is the title of a tango written by [[Homero Expósito]]. The music was composed by [[Héctor Stamponi]]. Far away, lonely, poor and sad, the poet remembers his hometown and sees in the pain of longing, his punishment for having left.
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|Composer1=Elías Randal
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|Composer1=Héctor Stamponi
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|Writer1=Carlos Bahr
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|Writer1=Homero Expósito
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|Year of composition=1945
 
 
|Genre=Tango
 
|Genre=Tango
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|Tangoinfo=https://tango.info/Z0000071873
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|Tangoinfo=https://tango.info/T0370175691
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|Todotango=http://www.todotango.com/musica/tema/3908/Pudo-ser-una-vida/
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|Todotango=http://www.todotango.com/musica/tema/967/Pueblito-de-provincia/
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|Lyrics=Los años cumpliría por diciembre,
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|Lyrics=Pueblito de provincia, nostalgia del recuerdo,
−
tal vez cuando festejan Navidad.
+
pedazo de esperanza que duerme en la ilusión.
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Creciendo, lo verían de repente
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Recuerdo tus casitas, tu río, tus senderos,
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sobrar el escritorio del papá.
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la parra del abuelo y el viejo del bastón.
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Tendría un trajecito marinero,
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Detrás de la miseria, ya ves... sigo soñando
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después, para ir al colegio,
+
mis horas de muchacho que ya no volverán.
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un delantal y luego,
+
Yo sé que se han nublado mis días más felices
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cuando ya cumpliera el sexto,
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como tus tardes grises que ya no veré más...
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habría que ir pensando
 
−
en algo más.
 
  
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Pudo ser una vida…
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¡Lejos, tristemente lejos!
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Y es dolor de una madre
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¡Sueño, mansamente sueño!
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que suspira por la cuna
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Y me acuerdo de tus calles
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que está siempre vacía,
+
con la rabia del silencio...
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por el sueño
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Solo, lentamente y solo,
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que nunca pudo ser.
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lloro, mudamente lloro,
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Pudo ser una vida…
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porque sé que no he de verte
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Y es el silencio de angustia
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nunca, nunca,
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en un hogar, y en una cuna
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más que nunca,
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en que sólo han de mecer
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siempre nunca…
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el fantasma de un niño que no fue.
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¡Nunca más!   
  
−
Los años cumpliría por diciembre,
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La tarde que partía con humos de grandeza
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tal vez cuando festejan Navidad.
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mojado de violetas lloraste mi ambición.
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Sería un mozo bueno y diligente,
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Y hoy duelen las distancias que acercan los recuerdos,
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orgullo del papá y de mamá.
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la parra del abuelo y el viejo del bastón.
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Después andando el tiempo
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Detrás de la miseria, ya ves, como un castigo,
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llegaría tal vez a ser doctor o capitán,
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me aplasta en el olvido la luz de la ciudad,
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o acaso un soñador que viviría
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¿no ves que Buenos Aires me llena de nostalgias
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rodando por el mundo sin parar.
+
como tus casas blancas que ya no veré más?
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|LyricsENTitle=It Could Have Been a Life
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|LyricsENTitle=Provincial Town
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|LyricsEN=His birthday would be around December,
+
|LyricsEN=Provincial town, memory’s yearning,
−
perhaps by the time people celebrate Christmas.
+
piece of hope that sleeps in my dreams.
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Growing up, they would see him, all of a sudden,
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I remember your little houses, your river, your paths,
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stand taller than his father's desk.
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the grandfather’s vine and the old man with the cane.
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He would wear a little sailor suit;
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Behind poverty, you see... I keep on dreaming
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later on, to go to school,
+
about my young boy hours that won’t return.
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a ''white coat''<ref>Its use generalized in 1918 and made compulsory in 1942, in Argentinean public schools, all students wear a white coat, similar to that of a doctor, called ''delantal'' or ''guardapolvo''.</ref>; and then
+
I know my happiest days have clouded up
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already on his sixth year,
+
like your gray afternoons I will no longer see...
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they would have to start thinking
 
−
about something else.
 
  
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It could have been a life...
+
Far, sorrowfully far away!
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And it's the pain of a mother
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I dream, I tamely dream!
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sighing over an ever-empty cradle,
+
I remember your streets
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over the dream
+
with the anger of silence...
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that could never be.
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Alone, slowly and alone,
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It could have been a life...
+
I cry, I cry silently,
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And it is the anguished silence
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because I know I won’t see you
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of a home, of a cradle
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ever, ever again,
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in which they will only rock
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more than ever,
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the ghost of a child who never was.
+
always never...
 +
Nevermore!
  
−
His birthday would be around December,
+
The afternoon I departed with fumes of greatness,
−
perhaps by the time people celebrate Christmas.
+
drenched in violets you cried over my ambition.
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He would have been be a good, diligent lad,
+
And today they hurt, the distances that memories bring closer,
−
dad and mom's pride.
+
grandfather’s vine and the old man with the cane.
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Later on, as time went by,
+
Behind poverty, you see, like a punishment
−
he might have got to be a doctor or a captain,
+
the city lights crush me into oblivion.
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or maybe even a dreamer, who would have lived
+
Can’t you see that Buenos Aires fills me with nostalgia
−
endlessly rolling around the world.
+
just as your white houses I will never see again?
 
|LyricsENSource=Roberta Maegli (for TangoTunes)
 
|LyricsENSource=Roberta Maegli (for TangoTunes)
 
}}
 
}}

Revision as of 20:43, 28 May 2019

Song

Pueblito de provincia (Provincial Town) is the title of a tango written by Homero Expósito. The music was composed by Héctor Stamponi. Far away, lonely, poor and sad, the poet remembers his hometown and sees in the pain of longing, his punishment for having left.

Music
Genre:

Tango

Composer(s):

Héctor Stamponi

Year of composition:


Lyrics

Lyrics writer(s):

Homero Expósito


Recordings

At the moment, there are no recordings for this song stored in the TangoWiki. If you have sources, add a new recording.

Lyrics

Spanish: Pueblito de provincia

Pueblito de provincia, nostalgia del recuerdo,
pedazo de esperanza que duerme en la ilusión.
Recuerdo tus casitas, tu río, tus senderos,
la parra del abuelo y el viejo del bastón.
Detrás de la miseria, ya ves... sigo soñando
mis horas de muchacho que ya no volverán.
Yo sé que se han nublado mis días más felices
como tus tardes grises que ya no veré más...

¡Lejos, tristemente lejos!
¡Sueño, mansamente sueño!
Y me acuerdo de tus calles
con la rabia del silencio...
Solo, lentamente y solo,
lloro, mudamente lloro,
porque sé que no he de verte
nunca, nunca,
más que nunca,
siempre nunca…
¡Nunca más!

La tarde que partía con humos de grandeza
mojado de violetas lloraste mi ambición.
Y hoy duelen las distancias que acercan los recuerdos,
la parra del abuelo y el viejo del bastón.
Detrás de la miseria, ya ves, como un castigo,
me aplasta en el olvido la luz de la ciudad,
¿no ves que Buenos Aires me llena de nostalgias
como tus casas blancas que ya no veré más?

English: Provincial Town

Provincial town, memory’s yearning,
piece of hope that sleeps in my dreams.
I remember your little houses, your river, your paths,
the grandfather’s vine and the old man with the cane.
Behind poverty, you see... I keep on dreaming
about my young boy hours that won’t return.
I know my happiest days have clouded up
like your gray afternoons I will no longer see...

Far, sorrowfully far away!
I dream, I tamely dream!
I remember your streets
with the anger of silence...
Alone, slowly and alone,
I cry, I cry silently,
because I know I won’t see you
ever, ever again,
more than ever,
always never...
Nevermore!

The afternoon I departed with fumes of greatness,
drenched in violets you cried over my ambition.
And today they hurt, the distances that memories bring closer,
grandfather’s vine and the old man with the cane.
Behind poverty, you see, like a punishment
the city lights crush me into oblivion.
Can’t you see that Buenos Aires fills me with nostalgia
just as your white houses I will never see again?

Translation: Roberta Maegli (for TangoTunes)

References


Further links

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