Con La Frente Marchita

Sitting in a circle we snacked on kisses and joints
And the hours passed quickly between the smoke and laughter
You were dying to come back, Gardel sang 'With a wrinkled forehead'
And amidst Borges' quotes, Evita danced with Freud
It's been a long time since that downpour until today

Every Sunday I went to your stall at the Flea Market to buy
bread crumb carriages, tin soldiers
With water from the Andalusian sea, I tried to make you fall in love
but you didn't want any love other than that of the River Plate

The storm lasted until the eighties
Then the sun dried the clothes of old Europe
There's no worse nostalgia than yearning for what never, ever
happened
'Send me a postcard from San Telmo, goodbye, take care!'-
And the train whistle sounded between you and me...

Every Sunday I went to your stall at the Flea Market to buy
bread crumb dolls, tin horses
With water from the Andalusian sea, I tried to make you fall in love
but you didn't want any love other than that of the River Plate

Those flags of the homeland of spring,
to tell me that forgetting exists, have come tonight
That beret looked so good on you, styled like 'Che'
Buenos Aires is as you described, today I went for a walk
and upon reaching Plaza de Mayo, I started to cry
and I began to shout: 'Where are you?'

And I never went back to your stall at the Flea Market to buy
bread crumb hearts, tin hats
And no one writes to me saying:
'I can't forget you, I wish you were with me in
the River Plate'