The English Lyric
Corrientes three, four, eight.
Second floor, elevator.
There are no doormen or neighbours,
Inside, cocktails and love.
A little flat furnished by Maple,
A piano, a mat and a side-table;
A telephone that answers,
A Victrola that cries
Old tangos of my youth,
And a cat made of porcelain
So it won't meow at love.
---
Juncal twelve, twenty-four.
Call without fear;
In the afternoon, tea with pastries;
At night, tango and love.
On Sundays, tea dances;
On Mondays, desolation.
The little house has everything:
Cushions and sofas;
Like at the drugstore... coke!
Carpets that make no sound
And a table set for love.