Callejera

When you hurriedly pass
heading who knows where,
making your silhouette look artful
as you walk...
your tapping heels
show that you're a tango dancer:
"Streetwalker... Streetwalker...
where will you end up?"

Those outfits you wear
don't match your background,
poor scruffy girl
made of silk and calico.
In fine crystal goblets
today you drink rich liquors,
and among so many bright lights
your neighborhood dazzles...

Streetwalker,
tapping from South to North,
showing off with the cut
of that outfit you wear...
Streetwalker,
you're also a little tango dancer
and deep down in your soul
you bury a sorrow.

Your grace triumphs, I know,
and in the late-night bars
you're the one
who shines the most...
You squander temptation,
but also, streetwalker,
when you're old and worn out
your heart will be dead...

Just keep going, slide
your years through life,
fascinated and deceived
by the lights of Pigall,
because when the winter of your life
starts to bite,
you'll regretfully notice
that you've lived a carnival.

Streetwalker,
tapping from South to North,
showing off with the cut
of that outfit you wear...
Streetwalker,
you're also a little tango dancer
and deep down in your soul
you bury a sorrow.