I accompany my shadow along the avenue
my steps are lost among so many people
I look for a Door, an exit
where past and present coexist.
Suddenly I stop, someone is watching me
I look up and meet her.
Ah! and there it is, and there it is
There it is, there it is
watching the Puerta de Alcalá pass by.
One cold morning
Charles III arrived with a distinguished air
and he took off his hat very slowly
he got off his horse
with a deep voice he said to his footman :
There it is, the Puerta de Alcalá.
There it is, there it is
watching the Puerta de Alcalá go by.
... with jackets, monarchs from other lands
showboats who arrive inventing war
militias that resist under the no They will pass
and eternal sleep, as it comes it goes.
And there it is, there it is, the Puerta de Alcalá.
There it is, there it is
watching the Puerta de Alcalá go by.
All tyrants embrace each other like brothers
exhibiting their indecent bald heads to the people
herds of macantes, two hundred students
start the revolt, it is the 60s.
And there it is, there it is, the Puerta de Alcalá.
There it is, there it is
watching the Puerta de Alcalá go by.
A lost transvestite, a quarrelsome guard
red hair, naked chichecas
rockers, modern insurgents, complacent
poets and hangers-on.
And there it is, there it is, the Puerta de Alcalá.
There it is, there it is
watching the Puerta de Alcalá go by.
I look straight ahead and I get lost in her eyes
her arches watch over me, her shadow accompanies me
I don't try to hide, no one deceives her
everything life passes through her gaze.
Look at it, look at it, look at it,
look at it, look at it, look at it
the Puerta de Alcalá.
Look at it, look at it, look at it,
look at it, look at it, look at it
the Puerta de Alcalá.