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Homero Manzi – Malena (ingles)

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Malena sings the tango
As does no other
And she makes every verse sound
Her very own
Her voice has the perfume of
Weeds of the suburb
Malena’s aching like the
Perhaps back in her childhood
Her voice rang clearly,
But in an alley took on
That dusky tone,
Or maybe that romance that
She mentions merely
When drink gets her to feeling
Sad and alone
Malena sings the tango
Her voice is bleary
Malena’s aching like the

Your sad song
Is as cold as the very last meeting,
Your sad song
Is as bitter as mem’ry that’s fleeting
I don’t know
If your voice comes from torment that’s stinging,
I just know
That, Malena, when I hear you singing,
I feel that you’re better,
Much better than I

Your eyes are dark like that deep
Sea of forgetting,
Your lips are pressed so tightly,
Down to the bone
Your hands are cold like two doves,
Shiv’ry and fretting,
In your veins flows the blood of
Your tangos are abandoned
Children who’re taking
A shortcut through the muddy
Alley alone,
When all the doors are closed
All is forsaken,
And when the ghosts of tangos
Howl on their own
Malena sings the tango,
Her voice is breaking
Malena’s aching like the

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