Malena

Malena sings the tango like no one else
and in every verse, she pours out her heart.
With the weeds of the neighborhood, her voice perfumes,
Malena's got the blues of a bandoneón.
Maybe back in childhood, her lark-like voice
picked up that dark tone from the alleyway,
or maybe that romance she only mentions
when she gets sad with the booze.
Malena sings the tango with a shadowy voice,
Malena's got the blues of a bandoneón.

Your song
has the chill of our last goodbye.
Your song
turns bitter in the salt of memories.
I don’t know
if your voice is the bloom of a sorrow,
I just know that with the sound of your tangos, Malena,
I feel you’re kinder,
kinder than I am.

Your eyes are dark like forgetfulness,
your lips pressed tight like resentment,
your hands two doves that feel the cold,
your veins have the blood of a bandoneón.
Your tangos are abandoned creatures
that cross over the mud of the alleyway,
when all the doors are shut tight
and the ghosts of the song are barking.
Malena sings the tango with a broken voice,
Malena's got the blues of a bandoneón.