Ya ves,
el día no amanece,
"Polaco" Goyeneche,
cantame un tango más.
Ya vez,
la noche se hace larga,
tu vida tiene un carma,
cantar, siempre cantar.

Tu voz,
que al tango lo emociona,
diciendo el punto y coma
que nadie le cantó.
Con tu voz,
con duendes y fantasmas,
respira tu en el asma
de un viejo bandoneón.

Canta,
garganta con arena,
tu voz tiene la pena
que Malena no cantó.

Canta,
que Juárez te condena
al lastimar tu pena,
con su blanco bandoneón.

Canta,
la gente está aplaudiendo,
aunque te estes muriendo
no conocen tu dolor.

Canta,
que Troilo desde el cielo,
debajo de tu almohada,
un verso te dejó.

Cantor, de un tango algo insolente,
hiciste que a la gente le duela tu dolor.
Cantor, de un tango equilibrista,
más que cantor artista, con vicios de cantor.

Ya ves, a mi y a Buenos Aires,
nos falta siempre el aire
cuando no esta tu voz,
a vos, que tanto me enseñaste,
el día que cantaste conmigo una canción.

Canta,
garganta con arena,
tu voz tiene la pena
que Malena no cantó.

Canta,
que Juárez te condena
al lastimar tu pena,
con su blanco bandoneón.

Canta,
la gente está aplaudiendo,
aunque te estes muriendo
no conocen tu dolor.

Canta,
que Troilo desde el cielo,
debajo de tu almohada,
un verso te dejó.

You see,
the day is far from dawn,
"Polaco" Goyeneche,
sing me one more tango.
You see,
the night becomes long,
your life has a karma,
to sing, always to sing.

Your voice,
that moves the tango,
saying the semicolon
that nobody sang for it.
With your voice,
with gobblins and ghosts,
breathe in the asthma
of an old bandoneón.

Sing,
throat with sand
your voice has the pain
that Malena didn't sing.

Sing,
that Juárez condemns you
when hurting your pain,
with its white bandoneón.

Sing,
people are applauding,
although you are dying
they don't know your pain..

Sing,
that Troilo from heaven,
underneath your pillow,
left you a verse.

Singer, of a somewhat insolent tango,
you got people to hurt with your pain.
Singer, of a tighrope balancing act tango,
more than singer artist, with the vices of a singer.

You see, to me and to Buenos Aires,
we always gasp for air
when your voice is not here
to you, that taught me so much,
the day that you sang a song with me .

Sing,
throat with sand
your voice has the pain
that Malena didn't sing.

Sing,
that Juárez condemns you
when hurting your pain,
with its white bandoneón.

Sing,
people are applauding,
although you are dying
they don't know your pain..

Sing,
that Troilo from the sky,
underneath your pillow,
left a verse.