The Violin
Sunday night - Edinburgh. 10:45.
The milonga is bringing to a close. Second to last tanda of the evening, third tango. Biagi with Saavedra. There is a suspended energy in the room. A nice flow channelled by the strong vocals. Everyone is dancing now.
Everyone except for her. She is sitting at the side of the dance floor. Her eyes are on her husband. He is dancing with another woman, he has been for the last two tandas. He wants to stay until the end.
Impatience is creeping up on her. She has been trying to make eye contact with him. Tonight is a school night. She wants to go.
The tango ends. She springs up from her chair as she finally manages to capture his gaze, her tired hands suddenly come to life. Her right index sharply pierces the sky. I can read her lips from the DJ box: just one. more. tango.
He rolls his eyes and, slowly shaking his head, he embraces his momentary partner again. They dance the last tango in the tanda.
The cortina plays. People chat as they clear the dance floor. He walks back to his chair and sits down, ready to take his shoes off. She sits next to him, grabs her bag and, without talking, she starts collecting her things.
Last four tangos. Violino Tzigano starts playing.
They suddenly freeze on their chairs. He looks at her. She looks back at him. They both look at me. I try to look as innocent as possible.
She smiles at him and nods. They walk onto the dance floor and embrace tightly. In doing so, he briefly closes his eyes against her forehead. I get a glimps of a smirk on his face.
He won.
Violino Tzigano (Violín gitano)- Francisco Lomuto con Jorge Omar
Translations are my own, if you have any comments, please contact me here:
Letras:
¡Oh, gitano violín!
Para mí sólo gime...
Quizá vibras así,
Añorando un amor
Muy lejano de ti.
Si un oculto dolor
Una mano te imprime,
Este tango de amor,
¡Oh, gitano violín!
Me entristece y oprime.
Este tango es de amor
Mas, mi amor va lejano,
Vibra aun para mi
¡Oh, gitano violín!
Aunque yo llore en vano...
Translation:
Oh Gipsy Violin
cry for me only.
Maybe you quiver thus,
longing for a love
far away from you.
If a hand impresses
a hidden pain on you.
This tango of love,
Oh gipsy violin,
saddens me and torments me.
This tango is about love,
but my love goes far.
Quiver even for me,
Oh, gipsy violin,
even though I cry in vain...