Improvisando

Here I start singing
To the beat of my instrument...
He who is happy does not sing
To tune his throat,
He who sings on the outside
He who cries on the inside.
 
Singing in a circle of friends
Gentlemen, it's not a feat...
It's a matter of being skillful
And digging out sorrows in the dry,
With gin and sugar cane
The couplets come out straight.
 
I also had, gentlemen
My time as the best...
I had a nest of my flower
A bandoneon for my troubles,
A mate, a heater
And a love with Milonguita...