Misa de once
Misa de once (11 O’clock Mass) is the title of a tango written by Armando Tagini in 1929. The music was composed by Juan José Guichandut.
Lyrics writer(s):
Tired after long, failed journeys in search for love and success, the saddened poet evokes the purity of a love from his youth.
Contents
Recordings
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Lyrics
Voces de bronce
llamando a misa de once...
Entonces tu tenías dieciocho primaveras,
yo veinte y el tesoro preciado de cantar...
En un colegio adusto vivías prisionera
y sólo los domingos salías a pasear.
Del brazo de la abuela llegabas a la misa,
airosa y deslumbrante de gracia juvenil
y yo te saludaba con mi mejor sonrisa,
que tu correspondías, con ademán gentil.
¡Cuantas promesas galanas
oyeron graves campanas
en las floridas mañanas
de mi dorada ilusión!
Eché a rodar por el mundo
mi afán de glorias y besos
y hoy sólo traigo, al regreso,
cansancio en el corazón.
Voces de bronce
llamando a misa de once...
No sé si era pecado decirte mis ternuras
allí, frente a la imagen divina de Jesús...
Lo cierto es que era el mundo sendero de venturas
y por aquel sendero tu amor era la luz.
Hoy te dirá otro labio la cálida y pausada
palabra emocionada que pide y jura amor,
en tanto que mi alma, la enferma desahuciada,
solloza en la ventana del sueño evocador.
Nostalgias del corazón.
¡Magnolias, menta y cedrón!
Bronze voices
calling to the 11 o’clock mass...
You counted then eighteen Springs ,
I, twenty and the precious treasure of singing...
You lived prisoner in a severe school
and only Sundays did you go out for a walk.
Holding onto grandmother’s arm you came to mass,
elegant and stunning with youthful grace,
and I greeted you with my best smile,
that you would reply to with a fine gesture.
How many gallant promises
the dignified bells heard
in the blooming mornings
of my golden hopes!
I set rolling around the world
my thirst for glory and kisses,
and today, on my return, I bring nothing with me
but weariness in the heart.
Bronze voices
calling to the 11 0’clock mass...
I don’t know if it was a sin to tell you of my affections
there, before the divine image of Jesus...
The truth is the world was a path of happiness
and along that path your love was the light.
Today some other lips might tell you the warm and slow,
thrilled word that requests and swears love,
while my soul, the terminally ill,
cries by the window of an evocative dream.
Nostalgias of the heart...
Magnolias, mint and lemongrass!