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 'Return... with a wrinkled forehead', Gardel sang
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 El Rastro 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 Rio de la Plata

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 El Rastro to buy
Bread crumb dolls, tin horses
With water from the Andalusian sea, I tried to make you fall in love
But you only wanted the love of the Rio de la Plata

Those flags of the homeland of spring
To tell me that forgetting exists, they have come tonight
You looked so good, that beret worn in the style of '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 El Rastro to buy
Bread crumb hearts, tin hats
And no one writes to me anymore saying
'I can't forget you, I wish you were with me in the Rio de la Plata'