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The night turns to esparto grass when the farewell arrives
there is a space tailored for the policeman
he left far from his house with his heart in motion
in exchange for that ticket he sold his soul to the devil
today again I saw him pass something sad but kind
always tireless after bread and salt
today again I saw him pass he had happy eyes
someone gave him brief news from his hometown
the sin of being African in Madrid
I opened my eyes to see that the sun does not reach here
the sin of being ebony, blood and ivory
if you look under your skin there is the same heart
maybe with a little luck you will reach the Gran Via
without the police asking for your passport
if the moon is on your side, perhaps you will have your bed
made of leaves and branches in the Plaza de España
today I saw him passing again...