The tangos of Homero Expósito strike a special balance in the songbook, achieving the highest measure of poetic quality while remaining firmly grounded in the genre. This is in part because their melodies were expertly written, sometimes by the poet’s brother Virgilio (as in this case). Yet it is also because the lyrics embrace a diversity of style, placing impressionistic, sensual imagery alongside a certain hard-bitten irony. That pessimism of experience, so endemic to the tango, rides into the song like reinforcements in the chorus of “Naranjo en flor.”
According to the composer, who spoke about the song in the newspaper Clarín in the 1990s, this chorus was the first part to be written and was to be the main tune. Recognizing it was a bit strong for an opening, and left nothing else to be said, the brothers changed their plan and made it the chorus. Homero then added a new opening for some breathing room—the verse now famous for its deeply wistful sighs.
Three bands recorded “Naranjo en flor” in 1944—those of Pedro Laurenz (in July), Enrique Rodriguez (in September), and Aníbal Troilo (in November). The last of these is a giant rendition and the most familiar of the dance versions. In later decades, the song became a big repertoire piece for solo singers, leading to dozens of new recordings by the greats of the microphone, such as Roberto Goyeneche, Alberto Podestá, and Susana Rinaldi, to name just a few.
An Orange in Bloom
(Tr. Jake Spatz)
YouTube: Floreal Ruiz (orq. Aníbal Troilo)
She was as soft as the water,
The softest water…
She was as fresh as the river…
An orange in bloom…
And in the street of our summer,
A street gone missing,
She dropped a piece of a living
And off she flew…
At first you learn to ache at heart,
And then to love, and then to part
Without a second thought at going…
To smell the orange tree in bloom,
With love’s ephemeral perfume
A promise breezes break with blowing.
And then… what’s the point of a then?
All of my life is in the past
Within a yesterday I’ve chosen.
Eternal youth so distant now,
That’s left me petrified and frozen
Like a bird upon lights out.
What did my hands ever bring her?
What did they bring her
For such a sorrow to linger
So deep in gloom?
The sorrows of an old orchard,
A corner’s singing
With just a piece of a living…
An orange in bloom.
Naranjo en flor (1944)
Music: Virgilio Expósito
Lyrics: Homero Expósito
Era más blanda que el agua,
que el agua blanda…
Era más fresca que el río…
Naranjo en flor…
Y en esa calle de estío,
calle perdida,
dejó un pedazo de vida
y se marchó…
Primero hay que saber sufrir,
después amar, después partir
y al fin andar sin pensamiento…
Perfume de naranjo en flor,
promesas vanas de un amor
que se escaparon en el viento.
Después… ¿qué importa el después?
Toda mi vida es el ayer
que me detiene en el pasado.
Eterna y vieja juventud
que me ha dejado acobardado
como un pájaro sin luz.
¿Qué le habrán hecho mis manos?
¿Qué le habrán hecho
para dejarme en el pecho
tanto dolor?
Dolor de vieja arboleda,
canción de esquina
con un pedazo de vida…
Naranjo en flor.