His name was Alain Delon
the traveler that wanted to teach me how to kiss
at Austerlitz Station
Spring season of a love
yellow and ephemeral like the sun
of a little summer at San Martín.
There's people who say it was me
the one who forgot first
when, during a B flat of Jacques Brel [1]
I got lost "in Amsterdam Harbor"
In the smug New York City
It provides more shade than the lemon trees do
the Statue of the Liberty
However, in Desolation Row
the oil tankers' sirens
don't allow me to laugh or to fly
And in Babel's chorus
a Spaniard sings out of tune
there's no law but the treasure law
at King Solomon's mines
Defying the waves
without helm or helmsman
through my dreams and without much luggage
it navigates on a nutshell
My heart is on a trip
showing the tattoos
of a buccaneer past
of a sailing boat ready to be boarded
of a 'I don't want to love you'
How to run away
when there are no more islands to shipwreck
to the wise men country
they get away from the offense
of seeking for lips
that lead to madness
Lies that win countless trials
that spoil the crystal of the aquarium
of the city fish
that lost their gills [2]
among a school of common fish
that swim not to cry
El Dorado was a shampoo
virtue, crossed arms
sin was a web page
While in Macondo I realized
that to the place where you have been happy
you shouldn't try to return
While in a regular flight
I sailed across the sky of Madrid
two down-to-earth feet were waiting for me
they didn't remember me
Defying the waves
without helm or helmsman
through my dreams and without much luggage
it navigates on a nutshell
My heart is on a trip
showing the tattoos
of a buccaneer past
of a sailing boat ready to be boarded
of a 'I don't want to love you'
How to run away
when there are no more islands to shipwreck
to the wise men country
they get away from the offense
of seeking for lips
that lead to madness
Lies that win countless trials
that spoil the crystal of the aquarium
of the city fish
that lost their gills
among a school of common fish
in a beach without sea.