Letra de The little bead.

THE ABROJITO - PUGLIESE MORAN

Letra de The little bean
Music: Luis Bernstein
Lyrics: Jesús Fernández Blanco



I carry, like a little thorn, a pain
inside my heart a sorrow
because you left, ungrateful, from the nest
and my life so serene
you thus condemned to pain.
I will never be able to tear from my breast,
never! the piercing thorn.
And I walk, for all the evil you have done me
with an agonizing soul,
without faith, without nest, without love...

I don't know why you turned away from me
if I adored you with growing fervor.
I don't know why you deceived me like that,
without showing your lack of love...
With your love, I was a happy man
and I never thought that your burning passion
was the dagger that was to open up
this wound in my heart.

I want that in your wandering life
know that alone and saddened
I walk the paths of the world
with memories that have taken hold
like thistles of a thistle...
I ask that sometime we stumble
to know if at last you have found
all that you have unconsciously dreamed of.
And maybe afterwards we can
both of us can start again!

Tango
Sung by Alberto Morán / Osvaldo Pugliese Orchestra

Tango interpreted with a tremendous passion that touches the soul. Thank you Mr. Pugliese and Mr. Moran. Excited reliving from my blooming adolescence that youthful infatuation that in our estrangement left me this tango that reminds me of it again. Life is just...a dream...that got into a song.

TRADUZIONE IN ITALIANO

IL CARDO

Porto, come cardo attaccato
nel mio cuore una pena
because you are gone, ungrateful, from the nest
and my life so serene, so condemned to pain.
Mai potrò strapparmi dal petto,
never! The sharp thistle.
E vado, per tutto il mal che mi hai fatto
with the agonizing soul,
without faith, without nest, without love...

I don't know why you are allontanasti da me
if I have venerated you with growing fervor.
I don't know why you have won me over like this,
without showing your disamour...
With your love, I was a happy man
and I never thought that your ardent passion
would be the challenge that would have opened up
this wound in my heart.

(Ritornello finale)
E vado, per tutto il mal che mi hai fatto
with the agonizing soul,
senza fede, senza nido, né amore...


The thistle is not a plant.
It is not a plant. In general, a fruit with four genitalia and hooks that clings to the clothes or hair of animals, or to any of the plants that have them, is called a thistle:

the amaranthaceae of the species Salsola kali;
the apiaceae of the species Eryngium campestre;
the asteraceae of the genera Arctium, Carthamus and Xanthium, in particular the big thistle or male thistle (the species Xanthium cavanillesii), and the species Centaurea calcitrapa;
the cactaceae species Opuntia pubescens or, in Mexico, Opuntia engelmannii and, in the Antilles and Venezuela, the species Pereskia bleo and Pereskia portulacifolia;
the Fabaceae species Genista carpetana, Genista hispanica, Genista scorpius and Ononis spinosa;
the poaceae of the genus Cenchrus;
Ranunculaceae of the species Ranunculus arvensis;
the rosaceae of the genus Acaena, in particular the species A. elongata, A. pinnatifida and A. splendens;
the zygophylaceae of the genus Tribulus, in particular the cosmopolitan species Tribulus terrestris, and in the West Indies and Venezuela, Tribulus cistoides and Kallstroemia maxima.
Combined with other terms, we find:
Cretan thistle, the zygophyllaceous Fagonia cretica.
Water thistle, the lithraceae Trapa natans.
Red thistle, the krameriacea Krameria ixine.









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