El Vals de los Jubilados

He gets up very early
with the whole day ahead.
And he wanders around the house,
getting in the way everywhere.
He finally ties his tie,
once so elegant.
Just like a brush,
the old man goes out into the street.

With bread under his arm
he visits all the bars.
Tomás, pour us some red wine
I'll treat my friends.
He loudly solves the world's problems
and loudly, even if he goes too far,
he pontificates about bullfighting,
about the league and singing.

"If things, I tell you,
blew with different winds,
and that damn war
didn't end as it did,
neither would I be here now,
nor you. And most likely
the same old story
would have to be turned around".

And he sighs nostalgically
for the one who knows everything.
And a glance at that girl,
age doesn't satisfy hunger.
Today is the twenty-eighth day
and the pension is late.
"For us old folks, I tell you,
no one takes away what we've danced".

With a little wine in his system
the old man opens his house.
She waits for him at the door.
"What a body you bring me".
They both eat in silence.
Occasionally a sentence
breaks the four walls.
"Were you saying something? Did you talk to me?".

After so many years of hearing each other
they don't know how to listen.
"Do you know anything about the kids?"
"The oldest called yesterday afternoon".
They spend time in silence.
After eating, they don't go out.
Then they have dinner and watch TV
for a while before going to bed.

If things, it's true,
blew with different winds.
If the shadow of oblivion
doesn't erase with time
memories that in this autumn
leave the landscape orphaned,
another story would be told,
perhaps it wouldn't be too late.

And he sighs nostalgically
for the one who knows everything.
And a glance at that girl,
age doesn't satisfy hunger.
Today is the twenty-eighth day
and the pension is late.
For us old folks, I tell you,
no one takes away what we've danced.