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Después (Later) is the title of a tango written by Homero Manzi in 1944. The music was composed by Hugo Gutiérrez.




Hugo Gutiérrez

Year of composition:



Lyrics writer(s):

Homero Manzi


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


Spanish: Después

Después ...
La luna en sangre y tu emoción,
y el anticipo del final
en un oscuro nubarrón.
Luego ...
tus ojos tan ausentes
llorando sin dolor.
Y después...
La noche enorme en el cristal,
y tu fatiga de vivir
y mi deseo de luchar.
Luego ...
tu piel como de nieve,
y en una ausencia leve
tu pálido final.

Todo retorna del recuerdo:
tu pena y tu silencio,
tu angustia y tu misterio.
Todo se abisma en el pasado:
tu nombre repetido ...
tu duda y tu cansancio.
Sombra más fuerte que la muerte,
grito perdido en el olvido,
paso que vuelve del fracaso
canción hecha pedazos
que aún es canción.

Después ...
vendrá el olvido o no vendrá
y mentiré para reír
y mentiré para llorar.
fantasma del pasado
bailando en el tinglado
tal vez para olvidar.
Y después,
en el silencio de tu voz,
se hará un dolor de soledad
y gritaré para vivir...
como si huyera del recuerdo
en arrepentimiento
para poder morir.

English: Later

The bloody moon and your emotion,
and the foretaste of the ending
in a dark, storm cloud.
your eyes, so absent,
crying without pain.
And later...
The enormous night on the crystal,
and your weariness to live
and my desire to fight.
Your skin as if made of snow
and in a light absence
your pale end.

Everything comes back from the memory:
your sorrow and your silence,
your anguish and your mystery.
Everything abandons itself into the past:
your repeated name...
the doubt and your tiredness.
Shadow that’s stronger than death,
scream lost in oblivion,
step that returns from failure,
song torn to pieces
that is still a song.

oblivion will come or not
and I will lie to laugh
and I will lie to cry.
ghost from the past,
dancing on the shed
perhaps to forget.
And later,
in the silence of your voice,
there’ll be a pain of loneliness
and I’ll scream to live...
as if running away from the memory,
to be able to die.


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