BUENOS AIRES

You have made Buenos Aires,
In the name of progress and madness,
You're not the city, silver,
  You have become, in fear,
Gates and fencing, where good,
Enclosed live with fear,
From the culprits and murderers.
You have made Buenos Aires,
When there was neither night nor day,
Where your streets teemed with life,
And now only blood stain,
And with tears, the one who cries,
And you do not understand. For he knew,
Another life, where fun,
Walked your streets, with joy,
And today only see poverty, not future
Where there are only tombs of the past,
Huddled in a corner,
From memories, where there was life,
There were only ashes.