Buenos Aires

Buenos Aires the Queen of the River Plate,
Buenos Aires my beloved land;
listen to my song
that my life goes with it.

In my hours of fever and orgy
fed up with pleasure and madness,
I think of you, my homeland
to calm my bitterness.

Porteño nights, under your mantle
joy and tears go hand in hand.
Laughter and kisses, a long night out,
all is forgotten with champagne.

And at the exit of the milonga
a girl can be heard begging for bread,
it's not for nothing that in the gotán
always sobs a sorrow.

And to the rhythmic beat of the bellows
a bacán (a bacán) makes the mine muddle,
and the weeping of the violin
painting the Creole soul.

Buenos Aires, like a dear one
if you are far away it is better to love you
and say all your life
rather die than forget you.