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 Riachuelo to the world, from heaven to hell, kicks in Catalan
No one else was going to ask San Genaro for miracles because you were entering to play
The jet set and the mob gathered to see you dribble

30 million blacks sweating on your shirt to play in a World Cup
More gift than a birthday, more prize than the lottery, more dance than carnival
And in the neighborhoods, TVs were missing to see you dribble

Olé olé, olé olé, ole ole ole ola, to see you dribble
Kite, puffed chest, with the sun of our dreams you lit up again
Full of illusions, when you were the owner they banished you
And in the streets, every tear was the price to see you dribble

Fat, cookie face, walking a bit crooked, always leaning back
Since they didn't give you a pass, 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, ole ole ole ola, to see you dribble