En Mi Calle

In my street there is a gray sidewalk
where the looks stick
of those who look where they are going.

In my street there is a bench that is
as long and white as marble
where we will end up.

I don't know why the white windows that look at the sky
are so high.
In my street the world doesn't speak
people look at each other and pass by with fear.

If I didn't live in the city
maybe I would see the dirty tree
where I used to play.

In my street there is silence
and it passes by my side
it's an uneven memory.

I don't know why I'm looking
why I'm singing,
why I'm living.

I don't know why I'm crying
why I'm loving,
why I'm dying.