San Juan and old Boedo, and all the sky,
Pompeya and beyond, the flood nearby.
Your bridal hair remembered in farewell,
And your name floating gently as I dwell.
The blacksmith’s corner, mud and pampa ground,
Your house, your path, and dreams no longer found,
And a scent of herbs and alfalfa hay
Filling my heart anew on this lost day.
South,
A wall and then…
South,
A store’s light at the end.
You’ll never see me as you used to see,
Leaning against that glass, waiting patiently.
I’ll never light the stars with our parade,
Our nights in Pompeya, gone, now only fade.
Suburban streets and moons,
My love and your windows, too,
All have vanished, I know it’s true…
San Juan and old Boedo, lost sky so dear,
Pompeya and approaching the embankment near,
Your twenty years trembling with tender love
Under the kiss I then dared to dream of.
Nostalgia for things past and swept away,
Life’s sands now scattered, lost along the way,
Sorrow for neighborhoods that have changed so,
And bitterness for dreams that couldn’t grow.
