Carlos Gardel
Miscellaneous
Swallow
Swallows of a single summer
With constant longing for distant skies...
Creole soul, wandering and traveling,
Wanting stopping it is a chimera.
Swallows with fever in their wings,
Pilgrims drunk with emotion...
Always dream of other paths
The crazy compass of your heart.
The crazy compass of your heart.
br/>Little Creole from my town, pebeta from my neighborhood,
The swallow will one day stop its flight;
There will be no cloud in its eyes of vague distances
And in your loving arms it will build its nest .
His longing for distances will be quiet in your mouth
With the sweet fragrance of your old love...
Little Creole from my town, little girl from my neighborhood,
With wings folded I must also return.
On your routes that cross the seas
A blue trail of songs blooms
And to the spell of new landscapes
Your clear cordage sounds intensely.
With your sweet sowing of harmonies
Distant lands saw you pass;
Other moons followed your footprints,
Your only destiny is always to fly.

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