The tango lyrics of Horacio Sanguinetti have a particular combination of qualities, which distill all the features and conventions of the romantic tango into the poetic capsule of song. He paints distinct characters in the middle of a situation, and captures them riding the arc of their yearning. (As in “Tristeza marina” and “Nada,” the speaker of “Ivón” appears to be in transit.) And as these characters utter their feelings, usually to some absent beloved, Sanguinetti imbues their speech with a simple and memorable lyricism, which almost requires the quaver of vibrato as they speak under the pressure of conscious emotion.
Sanguinetti’s lyrics appeared in the repertoire of nearly all the big tango orchestras of the 1940s, an achievement that speaks not just to the quality of his work but to its universality of appeal. And indeed, what we see in “Ivón” is less a specific artistic style or vision than an archetype, a formula for the tango. It is, in its way, the perfect radio piece. We don’t know who the speaker really is; or who Yvonne really is; just as we know almost nothing about who Sanguinetti really was, there being not even a single existing photo of this fine tango poet of the Golden Age. And perhaps that is the way it should be. Perhaps we need from the song just what he gave to the genre, and no more: just the purest essence of the tango.
Yvonne
(Tr. Jake Spatz)
YouTube: Julio Martel (orq. Alfredo De Angelis)
Amid the silence, your shaking voice,
Your voice was wounded to say goodbye…
And then your eyes, beneath the little
Blackened beaver hat you wore
Were weeping for our parting of ways.
And that’s the trouble, my fine Yvonne,
That grates my heart now, and on and on…
The early springtimes of my youth
Could not begin to understand
Or figure out my great mistake.
Where have you gone, Yvonne!
At every corner, my love implores you.
Where have you gone, Yvonne!
Through every quarter, I’m searching for you.
And it seems like you run the farther from me,
In terror before my shadow.
And right you are, Yvonne!
And unabsolved, I go hurting on!
A passion’s pounding within my core,
Just as it did in your heart before.
I now remember how its rhythm
Like a clock was pounding by
Upon that night we said our goodbye.
A night that settled for both of us
Beyond a doubt that we two were lost.
And then hallucinating idly
You beside me, I looked there
Too late to find you anywhere.
Ivón (1945)
Music: Luis Visca
Lyrics: Horacio Sanguinetti
En el silencio tembló tu voz,
tu voz herida diciendo adiós.
Después tus ojos, bajo el negro
sombrerito de castor,
lloraron nuestra separación.
Y es esta pena, mi linda Ivón,
que araña siempre mi corazón.
Mis juveniles primaveras
no podían comprender
ni razonar, mi gran error.
¡Dónde andarás, Ivón!
De calle en calle mi amor te nombra.
¡Dónde andarás, Ivón!
De barrio en barrio te busco, alondra.
Y me parece que estás huyendo de mi,
sintiendo terror de mi sombra.
¡Y con razón, Ivón!
Y yo sangrando, sin tu perdón.
Mi pecho, hoy late con emoción,
así latía, tu corazón.
Recuerdo ahora que su ritmo
parecía de reloj…
Aquella noche de nuestro adiós.
Y aquella noche para los dos
significaba la perdición.
Alucinando de inconsciencia
tu presencia la busqué
recién después y tarde fue.