Song
Queja indiana · Roberto Firpo · 1927
1927: 2, 0; 1939: 1, 5; 1943: 1, 0
Francisco Canaro recorded it in 1927 and 1943.
How we know
Takes in our catalogue by the same orchestra in different years; the canon’s first orchestra is named.
Queja indiana · Roberto Firpo · 1927 is a tango.† Queja indiana · Roberto Firpo · 1927 lasts 02:49.†
Credit
- Music
- Juan Rodríguez
- Lyrics
- Juan Velich
Source: TangoCloud catalogue
Every recording
4 recordings · our catalogue, dances filmed on TangoTube · 6 more we know of
Choose A and B on two recordings to hear them one after the other.
- Rodolfo BiagiMost dancedAndrés Falgás · Odeon · Oct 265 dances1939
- Francisco CanaroEarliest we holdAgustin Irusta, Roberto Fugazot · Odeon · Sep 13Not danced on film yet1927
- Francisco CanaroCarlos Roldán · Odeon · Sep 1Not danced on film yet1943
- Roberto FirpoInstrumental · Odeon · Oct 13Not danced on film yet1927
- Guillermo Barbieri, José RicardoNot in our catalogueCarlos Gardel · Oct 221927
- Osvaldo FresedoNot in our catalogueJuan Carlos Thorry · Nov 41927
- Juan Félix MaglioNot in our catalogueDec 71927
- -choir-Not in our catalogue1929
- Salvador PizarroNot in our catalogue-choir-1929
- Héctor VarelaNot in our catalogue1974
Lyrics
Español
¡Ay, ay, ay!… ¡Ay, ay, ay!… Por la noche se oía, En la lejanía, Ayes de dolor… ¡Ay, ay, ay!… ¡Ay, ay, ay!… Y el eco repetía, La queja sombría De un fatal amor. En la paz nocturnal, silente En que el campo parece tumba, El lamento tenue retumba Sin cesar, muy tristón, hiriente. Luego un búho, de cuando en cuando Lanza su tétrico graznido, Que al oírse deja oprimido De pesares el corazón. ¡Ay, ay, ay!... ¡Ay, ay, ay!... Aquella almita en pena, Los aires ahí llena Con su evocación. ¡Ay, ay, ay!... ¡Ay, ay, ay!... En la noche serena, Parece una quena Su lamentación. En la arista del monte, un día, Sobre unas matas, estirado, Al pobre indio lo han hallado Que lloraba en su agonía. Por sus males le preguntaron Y al hablar, tristemente dijo: “Ella se fue llevando a mi hijo... ¡Por mi cacique moriré!”
English · machine translation
Oh, oh, oh, oh!... Alas, alas, alas!.... At night it could be heard, In the distance, Ayes of pain... Woe, woe, woe!... Alas, alas, alas!... And the echo repeated, The somber complaint Of a fatal love. In the silent, nocturnal peace When the field seems like a tomb, The faint lament rumbles Ceaselessly, very sad, hurtful. Then an owl, from time to time Throws its gloomy hoot, That when heard leaves oppressed With sorrowful heart. Alas, alas, alas!... Alas, alas, alas!... That little soul in sorrow, She fills the air With her evocation. Oh, oh, oh, oh!... Oh, oh, oh, oh!... In the serene night, It sounds like a quena Its lamentation. On the edge of the mountain, one day, On some bushes, stretched out, The poor Indian was found Weeping in his agony. They asked him about his woes And speaking, sadly he said: "She went away taking my son! For my cacique I will die!"
Data: recordings, facts and sources
In other catalogues2
tango.info · 02480002042068-1-11
Single sourcetango.info · 04024236202676-1-6
Single sourceIs a1
Is a tango
Single sourceDuration1
Duration 02:49
Single sourceVocal1
Vocal instrumental
Single sourceListen
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