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He was a street in his own right
His philosophy of freedom
Was winning his own, without tying others down
And never passing over others
Although it was of all, he never had an owner
Who conditioned his reason for being
Free as the wind was our dog
Ours and the street where he was born
He was a stray with the sun on his back
Faithful to his destiny and his opinion
Without having a time to take a nap
Nor being accountable at dawn
He was our dog and he was tenderness
The one that we lose more and more every day
And it was a metaphor for adventure
That cannot be found in the dictionary
I say our dog because what we love
We consider it our property
And it belonged to the children and old Pablo
Whom he rescued from his loneliness
He was a stray and he was the character
Of the open door in any home
And it was in our neighborhood like the landscape
The night watchman, the priest and all the others
He was the stray of things beautiful
And he left with them when he left
He drank all the stars at once
He fell asleep and never woke up
He left us ³ space as a testament
Full of nostalgia, full of emotion
His memory wanders through the feelings
To pour them out in this song