El Flautista

Like the pollen carried by the wind,
Tuning his instrument,
Of marvelous character, in not very elegant clothes,
With a penetrating gaze and interesting melodies.
He's from Hamelin,
He's the flutist who, inhaling his friendship,
Claps his hands and everyone starts dancing,
Following his rhythm, don't resist his medieval touch,
Otherwise, he'll whistle even if you don't want to dance.
The flutist has arrived... on the horizon,
Drawing his figure in the setting sun,
He'll only ask for a bit of friendship,
And in return, he'll rid your city of rats.
He's from Hamelin,
He's the flutist who, inhaling his friendship,
Claps his hands and everyone starts dancing,
Following his rhythm, don't resist his medieval touch,
Otherwise, he'll whistle even if you don't want to dance.
The flutist has arrived... on the horizon,
Drawing his figure in the setting sun,
He'll only ask for a bit of friendship,
And in return, he'll rid your city of rats.
We'll cross rivers, lakes, and mountains,
And find a valley without smoke and rats,
He's the flutist from the tales of your childhood,
Slayer of giant dragons and conqueror of ladies.
He's from Hamelin,
He's the flutist who, inhaling his friendship,
Claps his hands and everyone starts dancing,
Following his rhythm, don't resist his medieval touch,
Otherwise, he'll whistle even if you don't want to dance.
The flute will wander in human memory,
Leaving its mark behind,
With the melody of his flute eternal.
Just as fire tests gold,
So does misery test virtue.