Buenos Aires neighborhood corner
the moon and the sun paint your walls.
The winter rains cry for you
in the watercolors of my evocation.
Thirty moons know my wound
and a hundred streets saw us go by.
Your life and my life crossed,
you took the path that never returns.
Streets, where the meek life
passion and faith.
Streets, if I know that she is already dead,
knocking on every door
why will I look for her?
Little streets, shaded with poetry,
they saw us one day
Companion of the sun and the stars,
that afternoon left
The winds murmur my sorrow.
The shadows tell me that he's already gone.
And written in the serene nights
I find her name as an obsession.
A little corner of Buenos Aires neighborhood,
with walls painted with the moon and the sun,
that when crying with your winter rains
you stain the landscape of my evocation.