De Profesión "Parao"

It was just another shadow of the night,
it was the vagabond of the street,
it was the faithful confidant
of an old street lamp,
master of the great city,
dreamer with a mocking air,
sneaky hunter
of stars at dawn,
proud as a king
whistling a love song.

No one ever knew his truth,
he was simply a pedestrian
from Sol to Callao
and eternal walker of Madrid,
with a 'twisted' appearance
and silent spirit of the street,
jest of the morning until the evening,
by profession 'standing still'.

He was just another friend of the frost,
together they shared the sidewalks,
together one more night they went to sleep
under a paper sky
in the warm light of the lamp.

I suspect he left
looking for some place in the sun,
they tell me he died
whistling a love song.
No one ever knew...