No me escribas · Osvaldo Pugliese · 1946

Castellano · Las palabras subrayadas son lunfardo: tocá una para ver qué significa.

No me escribas, yo prefiero no tener noticias tuyas. Tengo miedo, mucho miedo que tus cartas me hagan mal; que me digan algún día que de mí te has olvidado y tus besos y caricias pertenecen a un rival. No sabés lo que he sufrido desde el día que te fuiste cuando vi que ya no estabas y que solo me encontré. Tuve rabia, tuve pena, no sé lo que hubiera hecho y esa noche, de tristeza y dolor me emborraché. Desde entonces he intentado deshacerme 'e tu recuerdo, arrancarte de mi pecho, matar este metejón, pero inútil, porque cuanto hacía más para olvidarte como grampa te clavabas en mi pobre corazón. He llenado las paredes del bulín con tus retratos, y tus cartas, las primeras, las que me sabías mandar otros tiempos, las conservo, porque en ellas me decías que jamás de mi cariño vos te irías a olvidar. No me escribas, yo prefiero no tener noticias tuyas, tengo miedo, mucho miedo que tus cartas me hagan mal, que me digan algún día que de mí te has olvidado y tus besos y caricias pertenecen a un rival. Ayer tarde, en el momento que más triste me encontraba añorando tus recuerdos una carta recibí: cuando vi que era tu letra tuve miedo de leerla y temblando, sin haber abierto el sobre, la rompí.

Inglés · traducción automática

Don't write to me, I prefer not to hear from you. I'm afraid, very afraid that your letters will hurt me; that one day they'll tell me that you've forgotten about me and your kisses and caresses belong to a rival. You don't know what I've suffered since the day you left when I saw that you were gone and that I was alone. I had rage, I had sorrow, I don't know what I would have done and that night, of sadness and pain I got drunk. Since then I have tried to get rid of your memory, to tear you out of my chest, to kill this mess, but to no avail, because the more I tried to forget you. like grampa you were sticking in my poor heart. I have filled the walls of the bulín with your portraits, and your letters, the first ones, the ones you knew how to send me. other times, I keep them, because you told me in them that you would never forget my love. Don't write to me, I prefer not to hear from you, I'm afraid, very afraid that your letters will hurt me, that one day they will tell me that you have forgotten me. and your kisses and caresses belong to a rival. Yesterday afternoon, at the moment when I was at my saddest, longing for your memories longing for your memories I received a letter: when I saw that it was your handwriting I was afraid to read it and trembling, without having opened the envelope, I tore it up.