Carlos Gardel Miscellaneous Guitar, My Guitar
Creole spears of yesteryear
They fought at your spell;
My China listening to your song
Their deep pupils of sorrow cried.
Guitar, Creole guitar,
Tell him that cry is mine!
Blue pampas nights
Where he calms his anger,
There are two stars that die
When their eyes fall asleep.
Guitar of my loves
With your sonorous plume
You are towing my longings
On withered routes that dust pains.
Guitar, noble and flowery,
Shut up if she forgets me!< br/>Measuring eternal distances
Today they sprout from your strings
Sounds that have fragrances.
Of a forgotten gaucho time
When your song rises
How the life,
Sometimes they have your strings.
Caresses of sweet black braids
Like a blue bird without moorings
This is my Creole guitar.

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