Callejero

He was a street dog by his own right;
his philosophy of freedom
was to win his own, without tying others
and never stepping over others.

Although he belonged to everyone, he never had an owner
who conditioned his reason for being.
Free as the wind was our dog,
ours and of the street that saw him born.

He was a street dog with the sun on his back,
faithful to his destiny and his beliefs;
without a schedule for a nap
or being accountable at dawn.

He was our dog and he was tenderness,
that which we lose more every day
and he was a metaphor for the adventure
that cannot be found in the dictionary.

I say "our dog" because what we love
we consider our property
and he belonged to the children and to old Pablo
whom he rescued from his loneliness.

He was a street dog and he was the character
of the open door in any home
and he was in our neighborhood like part of the landscape,
the night watchman, the priest, and all the others.

He was the street dog of beautiful things
and he left with them when he left;
he drank up all the stars in one gulp,
fell asleep and never woke up.

He left us the space as a testament,
full of nostalgia, full of emotion.
His memory wanders through our feelings
to pour them out in this song.