Yuyal

Grew up in the weeds
Of fresh loves painted by hand
And there it learned to bloom
Reality in clay watercolors

Little girl from the station
When I leave, I keep on staying
No more flowers with your crimson
In the little squares of Belgrano

With a crayon, she copied
Her old light crossing
Down Annunciation Street
Stitching it on paper

If I say it’s to forget
If I forget, it’s to try to believe
That concrete gets boring
And my Morón sees you return

She set up her dominoes
Bought a love and ran off to other places
With scents of paradise
Between steps and marble floors

Here I am with my little rooster
And my songs left behind
I keep hopes that you’ll come
With the dawn of the sky in my arms

With a crayon, she copied
Her old light crossing
Down Annunciation Street
Stitching it on paper

If I say it’s to forget
If I forget, it’s to try to believe
That concrete gets boring
And my Morón sees you return