Con toda la voz que tengo · Aníbal Troilo · 1941

Español · Underlined words are lunfardo: tap one for its meaning.

Al compás de la milonga, ya que llegó la ocasión, voy a cantarle al varón que de compadre rezonga. A la sensible chilonga, que es para todo un resorte, que es para todo un resorte, al tango pero con corte que se va quebrando un poco, y que lo hace volver loco al mozo del sur y del norte. A la casita compadre, que le da el sol de arrabal, al vestido de percal y al chisme de la comadre. Al besito de la madre que le da al hijo bandido, que le da al hijo bandido, al que le alague el oído con un consejo bien sano, a la pobre hija del tano que no volvió más al nido. Al amigo que respeta y que se hace respetar, al que se pone a pensar, si ve triste a una pebeta. Al intuitivo poeta, que aunque viva sin un cobre, que aunque viva sin un cobre, una palabra le sobre para decir en su canto, que también tiene su encanto un baile, en un barrio pobre. Al matecito espumoso que me dan donde yo voy. Pa'l que sea como yo soy, con el enfermo amoroso. Al que no se haga el gracioso ni se tire a la bartola, ni se tire a la bartola, con la galleguita Lola de mi suburbio porteño, que vive buscando dueño pero que siempre anda sola.

English · machine translation

To the beat of the milonga, since the occasion has arrived, I'm going to sing to the man who as a compadre rezonga. To the sensitive chilonga that is for all a spring, who is for a whole spring, to the tango but with a cut that is breaking a little, and that makes him go crazy to the southern and northern waiter. To the little house compadre, that gives the sun of the suburbs, to the percale dress and to the gossip of the comadre. To the mother's little kiss that gives to the bandit son, who gives to the bandit son, to the one who flatters her ear with a healthy piece of advice, to the poor daughter of the tano who never returned to the nest. To the friend who respects and who makes himself respected, to the one who gets to thinking, if he sees a little girl sad. To the intuitive poet who even if he lives without a copper, who even if he lives without a copper, he has a word left over to say in his song, that he also has his charm a dance, in a poor neighborhood. To the sparkling matecito that they give me wherever I go. For me to be as I am, with the lovesick. To the one who doesn't act funny or lie down at the barbecue, or lie down at the barbecue, with the little Galician girl Lola of my Buenos Aires suburb who lives looking for an owner but who is always alone.