Текст песни Тим Скоренко - После Гарделя

There, in milonga, a thin tangero moves in a whirlwind of rioplatense,
Fingers on the fingerboard, tirando, hit, click.
Ladies and gentlemen are whirling, circling in the rhythm of septim and thirds,
Time flows invisibly, but it does not count.

      If the song seems long to you, if the tango seems rough to you,
      Just take the bromide and crawl to bed.
      Crying, laughing, José Molina, brass pipes burst into flame -
      The best tangero that ever sang -
      After Gardel.

Hear, Creole, Tango Canaro, do you hear, girl, Tango D'Arienzo,
You know, goddess, because this is hard work.
Even the sluts at the bars froze, huddle at the sailors to warm themselves,
Come on, tangier, come on, get up in a circle.

      There is nothing to do there, behind the column, without delay move to the goal,
      Maybe someone in the arena will notice you ...
      José Molina turns Yvonne, note by note, the mill is grinding,
      The best tangero from all that was born in the world -
      After Gardel.

Soon the thrush is destined to dive
In the black sunrise of Medellin.
Unlikely to replace the singing bird
Even Tangero Molina.
Tin goose is flying hard like a tin can
Against fate, even gods are powerless, motor trills flow,
No, nothing happened, beautiful, just ended the tango
After Gardel.