Four dogs in the street:
the first one is a war dog
and he has no bones in his mouth nor violence;
he lives close to the walls and never speaks.
The second one is a mongrel
who knows hunger and tranquility
and the men's foot, and the street;
each time he dies, his tail grows back.
And the third one is a female dog, very often denies,
sometimes gives herself, then scatters her puppies
throughout the world,
because they are sons of the world,
the sons.
Four dogs in the street
and the road is already a square,
the evening is already night…
if there was the moon, we could sing.
The fourth one has a owner,
he does not know where to go, however goes there,
going back to their brothers , trusting in them;
sometimes stopping to smell the life,
the life.
Four dogs in the street
and the road is already a square,
the afternoon is already night
if there was the moon, we could sing.