Muchacho

Dude, because luck wanted it
You live on the first floor
of a central mansion,
for vices and pleasures,
for parties and women
you have a capital.
Dude
who doesn't know the charm
of having shed tears
on a woman's chest;
and you don't know what it's like
to dry yourself
in a gambling den and gear up
to go back in;

you say that a bold tango
doesn't make you lose your cool
and that your soul doesn't cry
when a bandoneon moans;
that if you have feelings
you have them numbed
because you have achieved everything
by paying like a dude.

Tell me
if in your shady life,
under the Moonlight
or if not under a streetlight,
haven't you felt like a poet
and told a girl
that she is more beautiful than the Sun.

Tell me
if you know the harmony,
the sweet polychromy
of the afternoons in the slums,
when the factory girls
tempting and cheeky
go under the noisy percale...