Corrientes tres cuatro ocho,
segundo piso, ascensor;
no hay porteros ni vecinos
adentro, cocktel y amor.
Pisito que puso Maple,
piano, estera y velador...
un telefon que contesta,
una fonola que llora
viejos tangos de mi flor,
y un gato de porcelana
pa que no maulle al amor.

Y todo a media luz,
que es un brujo el amor,
a media luz los besos,
a media luz los dos...
Y todo a media luz,
crepusculo interior,
que suave terciopelo
la media luz de amor.

Juncal doce veinticuatro,
telefonea sin temor;
de tarde, te con masitas,
de noche, tango y amor;
los domingos, te danzante,
los lunes, desolacion.
Hay de todo en la casita:
almohadones y divanes
como en botica... coco,
alfombras que no hacen ruido
y mesa puesta al amor...

Corrientes three-four-eight,
second floor, elevator
There are no doormen nor neighbors.
Inside, cocktail and love.
Loft furnished by Maple:
piano, rug and nightlamp,
a telephone that answers,
a fonograph that cries
old tangos of my flower
and a porcelain cat
that can't mew the love.

And everything at half light
that love is a sorcerer...
At half light the kisses...
At half light the two of us...
And all at half light...
interior twilight...
What a soft velvet
the half light of love!

Juncal twelve twentyfour
Call without fear.
On afternoons, tea with pastries;
at night, tango and love.
On Sundays, tea dancing;
on Mondays, emptiness...
There is everything in the little house:
pillows and sofas;
like in a drugstore, coke;
carpets muffling the sound
and a table set for love.