Dieguitos y Mafaldas

Twenty years, sewn with patches
Of urgencies, disguises, and routines
Twenty years, fulfilled in my arms
With the flesh of a chicken-hearted soul

Twenty years of blue princes
Who left before arriving
Twenty tangos by Manzi in the trunks
Twenty centuries without letters from dad

From Gonzalez Catan, by bus
To the Boca stadium, by the lagoon
She dreams, today we win the game
The apple of the eye of the Moon

The guys from La Doce, more violent
When they see her at La Bombonera
They ask the Virgin of the Winds
To lift Paula's skirt

Twenty years of poorly healed myths
Drawing Dieguitos and Mafaldas
It would have taken me twenty lives
To count the freckles on her back

I owe her a song and some kisses
Worth more than the gold of Peru
Her bones are nephews of my bones
Her tears, the nails of my cross

From Gonzalez Catan, by bus
To the Boca stadium, by the lagoon
She dreams, today we win the game
The wife who cheats on me with the Moon

One day the hooligans will build a monument
To my Boca-supporting woman
And a hermitage to the Virgin of the Winds
Who lifts Paula's skirt

From Gonzalez Catan to Tirso de Molina (what a hustle)
From Spain to Argentina
What a shake, what a sway
What a hustle, what a dizziness, what a ruin

And because of whom?
Because of a girl's love
And for what?
If, in the end, she ran off with a guy

Who forbids my ex to come see me at the Gran Rex
When I'm visiting
Lest Paulita starts crying
Upon hearing her milonga

Lest Paulita starts dancing
To the beat of the conga
And returns sick to Gonzalez Catan
And doesn't recover

And gets crazier than usual
Blessed skirt!
What a flag for a song
And what a forward!

That year Boca became champion
At La Bombonera
No Boca fan can complain
Even if she has every reason to

Painting shirts with the heart
And with the hips
It's Palermo's turn to touch the ball
La Doce gets excited

It's the Galician's turn to play this tune
For a Boca fan
The year Boca became champion
At La Bombonera