Mi Viejo

My old man is a good guy
who walks alone and waiting,
he has the long sadness
from so much walking.

I look at him from afar,
but we are so different;
it's because he grew up with the century
with tram and red wine.

Old man, my dear old man
now he walks slowly;
like forgiving the wind
I am your blood, my old man
I am your silence and your time.

He has good eyes
and a heavy figure;
age caught up with him
without carnival or parade.

I have the new years
My father has the old years;
the pain he carries inside
and has a timeless story.

Old man, my dear old man,
now he walks slowly
like forgiving the wind;
I am your blood, my old man.
I am your silence and your time.
I am your blood, my old man