I slide down your dusk.
If you are tired of sliding down the slope, be pious
Young night
Like the wings on your roof platform.
You are the Buenos Aires we used to be.
A city that slipped away with the years.
You are ours, happy, like a star reflected in the water.
The false door of time
Your street faces a softer past.
The light of dawn, the morning it brought, came to us.
On the sweet brown sea water
Before lighting my blinds
Your low sun color has blessed your garden.
A city that sounds like a poem.
Streets with garden lights