Jirón de suburbio

Old Barracas, beloved neighborhood
The one of little houses made of zinc,
Humble corner where I was born
And was my pride as a dancer.
How many memories you bring to my mind
How glad I am to see you again,
And although you have changed for the absent
You are the same as you were in my childhood...
 
My good comrades
Friends of another time,
To whom I trusted
My thrush dreams,
You don't know how much sorrow
It causes me to remember them,
Sitting as I did then
In this old bar.
 
I close my eyes and again
I see your streets just like yesterday,
Your stockyards, the old bridge
And your girls on their way to the workshop.
I hear in the shade of your balconies
The sweet melody of the troubadour,
While they fall asleep among the malvones
My nightingale's hopes...