Sueño de Morocha En Conventillo
La Chicana
Dream of the Dark-Haired Girl in the Tenement
In the tenement there's a parrot that barks,
A dog that's searching and a cat that's hiding.
A kid who's dreaming, when he grows up,
Of being the unknown soldier.
A broke Italian and a defeated Scotsman
Drown their sorrows in bitter mate.
They're separated by the same lost love,
And brought together by the radio in a waltz.
And she in the yard, like the bees,
Visits the flowers, some she kisses.
I don’t know if I’m alive, young or old,
Now that the old has turned modern;
But if tonight I beat insomnia,
With her, I’ll escape again.
My grandpa who smokes in his mind,
His memory of smoke from the old casino.
From all that pharmacy, he lost his mind;
Cigarettes, girls, and wine are forbidden.
And I spy on her getting dressed through her eyes,
And in front of the mirror, she touches herself indecently,
And in her hot curly hair,
I want to get tangled up and sleep.
