Balada Para Un Loco

The evenings in Buenos Aires have that, you know, right?
I leave home on Arenales, the usual on the street and in me
When, suddenly, from behind a tree, he appears
Strange mix of penultimate tramp
And first stowaway on the trip to Venus
Half melon on his head
The stripes of the shirt painted on his skin
Two half soles nailed to his feet
And a free taxi flag raised in each hand
It seems that only I see him
Because he passes among the people and the mannequins wink at him
The traffic lights give him three blue lights
And the oranges from the corner fruit stand
Throw him orange blossoms
And so, half dancing and half flying
He takes off the melon, greets me
Gives me a flag and says to me

I know I'm crazy, crazy, crazy
Don't you see the moon rolling down Callao
That a carnival of astronauts and children, with a waltz
Dances around me... dance! come! fly!

I know I'm crazy, crazy, crazy
I look at Buenos Aires from a sparrow's nest
And I saw you so sad... come! fly! feel!
The crazy whim I have for you

Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!
When night falls in your Buenos Aires solitude
By the shore of your sheet I will come
With a poem and a trombone
To keep your heart awake

Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!
Like a crazy acrobat I will jump
Over the abyss of your neckline until I feel
That I drove your heart crazy with freedom
You'll see!

And saying that, the crazy person invites me
To ride in his super-sport illusion
And we will run along the cornices
With a swallow in the engine!

From the asylum they applaud us: