With his beret pulled down, with his silk gloves
His stranded mermaid, his save parties
If you come back tomorrow, his every man for himself
His little game of mus, his so-and-so
With his everything is now, with his nothing is eternal
With his rap and his chotis, with his squatter and his skin
Even if summer dies and the winter
Spring knows that I wait for it in Madrid
With its autumn Velázquez, with its Picasso Tower
His saint and his bullfighter, his Atleti, his Borbà ³n
His fat girls from Botero, his transit hotels
His little bag of hash, his grandparents in the sun
With his snow bonfire, his festival and his duel
His eighteenth of July , its fourteenth of April
Halfway between hell and heaven
I get off in Atocha, I stay in Madrid
Although the night raves like a bird in flames
Even if the Puerta de Alcalá doesn't give glory to glory
Even if the naked maja takes fifteen and the bed
Although the dressed maja doesn't allow herself to be kissed
Walkways Cibeles, YeserÃÂas prison
France Bridge, ChamberÃÂ taverns
That child who dreamed no longer dreams that I wrote to
Heart of Mary, do not leave me like this
Court of Miracles, Virgin of Almudena
Uralite shacks, Crystal Palace
With his 'They will not pass' with his 'Long live the caenas'
His civil cemetery, his municipal band
I have cried in Venice
I have lost myself in Manhattan
I have Grown up in Havana, I have been an outcast in Paris
Mexico torments me, Buenos Aires kills me
But there is always a train
That ends in Madrid
But there is always a child who grows old in Madrid
But there is always a car that skids in Madrid
But there is always a fire
That lights up in Madrid
But always There is a ship that sinks in Madrid
But there is always a dream
That wakes up in Madrid
But there is always a flight back to Madrid

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