La Gata Varela
Cacho Castaña
The Varela Cat
The cat goes out to sing, wrapped in adrenaline
And perfumes the stage with incense and wisteria
With a tango code, without books and without school
And tells you by painting with watercolor colors
The best of singers
Has the old teaching
To be silent when necessary
And to speak when needed
Rain-soaked cat
Lightening the vices
Goes out to walk on the ledges
Without falling into the precipice
She seems like a troublemaker when she sings
It seems like she lets herself go and doesn't
You get the feeling when she walks
That, instead of one woman, two chicks arrive
She seems a bit crazy and provokes you
Because the tango in her mouth is a moan
It seems like nothing surprises her anymore
It seems she knows everything about life
It seems, but it's not what it seems
She's a wounded cat
Those who sing loudly
Will remain apprentices
Because tango is not sung
Because tango is told
With pauses and silence
Referred to by poets
Slowly, little by little
So they understand the lyrics
When the audience doesn't listen, the cat takes pride
In having a fresh mind in the midst of the noise
I also write and sing, without books and without school
Slowly, little by little, like the Varela Cat
She seems like a troublemaker when she sings
It seems like she lets herself go and doesn't
You get the feeling when she walks
That, instead of one woman, two chicks arrive
She seems a bit crazy and provokes you
Because the tango in her mouth is a moan
It seems like nothing surprises her anymore
It seems she knows everything about life
It seems, but it's not what it seems
She's a wounded cat
