I am drawn to the life of a bohemian herrante,
I am, Buenos Aires, anchored in Paris,
Weathered with evils, riddled with pressures,
I evoke you from this distant country.
I contemplate the snow that falls softly
From my window that overlooks the boulevard,
The reddish lights with dying tones,
They seem like strange pupils to look at.
Distant Buenos Aires, how nice it is You have to be,
It has been ten years since you saw me set sail
Here, in this Montmartre, sentimental faubourg,
I feel that memory stabs me with its dagger.
How your Corrientes street will have changed,
Suipacha, Esmeralda, your own suburb
Someone has told me that you are flourishing
And a set of streets occurs diagonally.
You don't know how much I want to see you,
Here I am standing without money and without faith.
Who knows, one night death will haunt me
And bye, Buenos Aires, don't let me see you again see.