Las transeúntes [English translation]

Watching from my balcony, the passersby,

Pretending I'm taking notes,

And she looks for something in her purse.

And I tell myself spring has arrived.

And the flowerpot across the way has filled with sprouts,

And down there the neighborhood has filled with necklines,

And the afternoon escapes with a verse inside,

And I keep searching without finding my center.

And I place brick upon brick,

And I continue without finding the chorus.

And then I ask myself,

What is it you saw in me?

What is it that made you open like that,

Your fears, your legs, your calendar,

The seven sacred doors of your sanctuary,

The strange light of your camera obscura,

The impenetrable lock of your armor?

The passersby have gotten organized,

They have their wandering synchronized,

And they do their choreography

With knees the color of happiness.

Each streetlight has its dancer,

And the band enters through the corner.

And the afternoon shows the waist,

And time shows there are things that don't heal.

And the muses flee if you beseige them,

And another song that will stay unfinished.

And then I ask myself,

What is it you saw in me?

What is it that made you open like that,

Your fears, your legs, your calendar,

The seven sacred doors of your sanctuary,

The strange light of your camera obscura,

The impenetrable lock of your armor?

What is it you saw in me?

What is it that made you open like that?

What is it you saw in me?

What is it that made you open like that?

What is it you saw in me?

What is it that made you open like that?

What is it you saw in me?

What is it that made you open like that?