White little dove - Anibal Troilo

Su ausencia esta congoja me dio, y a veces su recuerdo es un bien

Que pronto se me ahoga en dolor… y nada me consuela

De ir siempre más lejos de verme sin ella

Mi paso va adelante y atrás el corazón

El rumbo que me aleja tan cruel, me roba sus caricias de amor

Y sólo el pensamiento la ve, la escucha embelesado

La besa con ansias, la siente a mi lado

Y voy, así soñando, más lejos cada vez…

Blanca palomita que pasás volando rumbo a la casita donde está mi amor

Palomita blanca, para el triste ausente sos como una carta de recordación…

Si la ves a la que adoro, sin decir que lloro, dale alguna idea

De lo muy amargo que es vivir sin ella, que es perder su amante calor…

Sigan adelante, pingos de mi tropa, que de un viento errante somos nubarrón

Y en un mal de ausencia se nos va la vida siempre a la querencia dándole el

adiós…

¡palomita blanca!

vuela noche y día de mi nido en busca

Y escribí en el cielo con sereno vuelo: «no te olvida nunca, sólo piensa en vos»

No sabe aquel que nunca dejó su amada a la distancia, el pesar

Que al alma impone un duro rigor, que viene de ladero

Que a ratos la nombra midiendo el sendero

Mirando allá en la sombra los pagos que dejó…

La he visto entre mis brazos llorar la he visto al darme vuelta al partir

Su tibio pañuelo agitar, y luego irse achicando

Su imagen lejana… y en mi alma agrandado

Su encanto… y esta pena de no tenerla más…

His absence gave me this anguish, and sometimes his memory is a blessing

That soon I drown in pain... and nothing consoles me

To always go further than to see me without her

My step goes forward and back the heart

The course that drives me away so cruel, robs me of her caresses of love

And only the thought of her sees her, listens to her spellbound

He kisses her eagerly, feels her by my side

And I go, dreaming like this, further each time...

White little dove that you fly by towards the little house where my love is

White dove, for the sad absent you are like a letter of remembrance...

If you see her that I adore, without saying that I cry, give her some idea

How bitter it is to live without her, how it is to lose her lover, her warmth...

Keep going, pingos of my troop, because of a wandering wind we are a cloud

And in a sickness of absence, life always goes to her love, giving her the

goodbye…

white dove!

fly night and day from my nest in search

And I wrote in the sky with serene flight: «she never forgets you, she only thinks of you»

He does not know who never left his beloved from a distance, the regret

That imposes a harsh rigor on the soul, which comes from the side

That she sometimes names her measuring the path

Looking there in the shadows at the payments she left...

I have seen her cry in my arms I have seen her when I turned around when leaving

Her warm handkerchief of hers shake of her, and then go shrinking

Her image of her far from her… and in my enlarged soul

Of her Her charm of her… and this sorrow of not having her anymore…