Esquinas porteñas

Corner of a Buenos Aires neighborhood
the moon and the sun paint your walls.
The winter rains weep for you
in the watercolors of my evocation.
Thirty moons know my wound
and a hundred little streets saw us pass by.
Your life and my life crossed,
you took the path that never returns.

Streets, where the meek life
lost hope,
passion and faith.
Streets, if I know it is already dead,
knocking at every door
why will I look for her.
Little streets, shaded with poetry,
saw us go one day
happy the two of us.
Companion of the sun and the stars,
that afternoon went away
on its way to God.

The winds murmur my sorrow.
The shadows tell me that she is gone.
And written in the serene nights
I find his name like an obsession.
Corner of a porteño neighborhood,
with walls painted with moon and sun,
that when you cry with your winter rains
you stain the landscape of my evocation.