San José De Flores (Saint Joseph of Flores)

Lyrics: Armando Acquarone
Translation: Felipe & Ayano
Music: Enrique Gaudino 1936
Recorded by Osvaldo Pugliese with Alberto Morán in 1953

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Me da pena verte, hoy barrio de Flores
Rincón de mis juegos de pibe andarín,
Recuerdos cachuzos, novelas de amores
Que evoca un romance de dicha sin fin.

Nací en ese barrio, crecí en sus veredas
Un día alcé vuelo, soñando triunfar,
Y hoy pobre y vencido, cargado de penas
He vuelto cansado de tanto ambular.

La dicha y fortuna, me fueron esquivas
Jirones de ensueños dispersos dejé,
Y en medio de tantas desgracias y penas
El ansia bendita de verte otra vez...

En tierras extrañas luché con la suerte
Derecho y sin vueltas, no supe mentir,
Y al verme agobiado, más pobre que nunca
Rumbié a mi querencia, buscando morir...

San José de Flores, más vale que nunca pegara el regreso
Si al verte de nuevo me puse a llorar,
Mis labios dijeron, temblando en un rezo
¡Mi barrio no es éste, cambió de lugar!

Quiero quedarme, morir en la huella
Si todo he perdido, barriada y hogar...
Total, otra herida no me hace ni mella
Será mi destino tener que rodar...

La dicha y fortuna, me fueron esquivas
Jirones de ensueños dispersos dejé,
Y en medio de tantas desgracias y penas
El ansia bendita de verte otra vez...

En tierras extrañas luché con la suerte
Derecho y sin vueltas, no supe mentir,
Y al verme agobiado, más pobre que nunca
Rumbié a mi querencia, buscando morir...

English

I feel sad seeing you today, neighborhood of Flores,
the corner where I used to play as a toddler.
Broken memories, love stories
that evoke a romance of endless joy.

I was born in that neighborhood, I grew up on its sidewalks,
one day I took off dreaming of success;
and today, poor and defeated, full of sorrow,
I’ve returned exhausted from so much wandering…

Joy and fortune were elusive,
pieces of daydreams I left dispersed;
and in the middle of so many misfortunes and sorrows,
the blessed longing of seeing you again…

In strange lands I fought against luck,
straight and to the point I didn’t know how to lie,
and being overwhelmed, poorer than ever,
I returned to the place I’m fond of, waiting to die.

Saint Joseph of Flores, I wish I never have to return,
for seeing you again made me cry.
My lips said trembling in a prayer:
“This is not my neighborhood, it must have moved away!”

I rather die on the road than to stay
since I lost everything, my neighborhood and my home...
In the end, one more wound doesn’t hurt,
my fate will be having to roam...

Joy and fortune were elusive,
pieces of daydreams I left dispersed;
and in the middle of so many misfortunes and sorrows,
the blessed longing of seeing you again…

In strange lands I fought against luck,
straight and to the point I didn’t know how to lie,
and being overwhelmed, poorer than ever,
I returned to the place I’m fond of, waiting to die.

They say that when Alberto Morán sang this song, both men and women stopped dancing, came by the stage to watch him sing, mesmerized...

Note: San José de Flores is a old neighborhood of Buenos Aires, named after the church. Today it's called Flores.