Para Verte Gambetear

With a couple of ragged canvases
Waiting for the bus
From Fiorito to Paternal
The footsteps, the rabonas
Are the toys that the old folks
Couldn't give you
And in the neighborhood
The kids would gather
To see you dribble

From the stream to the world
From heaven to hell
Kicks in Catalan
No one else would dare to beg
Miracles to San Genaro
Because you entered to play
The jet set
And the mobsters gathered
To see you dribble

Thirty million blacks
Sweating on your shirt
To play in a World Cup
A bigger gift than a birthday
A bigger prize than the lottery
More dancing than in carnival
And in the neighborhoods
They lacked televisions
To see you dribble

Olé olé, olé olé, olé olé, olé olá
To see you dribble
Olé olé olé olé, olé olé olé olá
To see you dribble

Kite, chest puffed out
With the Sun of our dreams
You shone again
Stuffed with illusions
When you were the owner
They tried to banish you
And in the streets
Every tear was the price
To see you dribble

Fat, face like a cookie
Walking a bit crooked
Always leaning back
Since they wouldn't pass you the ball
You left the dead behind
How could they stop you!
And we prayed
In Havana and Buenos Aires
To see you dribble

With the smile of a kid
With the guerrilla arm
And the heart of the suburb
The demon lefty
And the hammer in the throat
Every day I love you more
It's enough
To just squint your eyes
To see you dribble

Olé olé, olé olé, olé olé, olé olá
To see you dribble
Olé olé olé olé, olé olé olé olá
To see you dribble