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  • Annita Belluncci

Feliz día de San Isidro,a todos los Madrileños


Feliz día de San Isidro,a todos los chulapos guapos y majos, os envió mis mejores deseos, muchas fuerzas y no perdáis vuestra alegría y la fe, os quiero!!

Con su boina calada, con sus guantes de seda, Su sirena varada, sus fiestas de guardar, Se vuelva usted mañana, su sálvese quien pueda, Su partidita de mus, su fulanita de tal

Con su todo es ahora, con su nada es eterno, Con su rap y su chotis, con su okupa y su skin, Aunque muera el verano y tenga prisa el invierno, La primavera sabe que la espero en Madrid

Con su otoño Velázquez, con su Torre Picasso, Su santo y su torero, su Atleti, su Borbón, Sus gordas de Botero, sus hoteles de paso, Su taleguito de hash, sus abuelitos al sol

Con su hoguera de nieve, su verbena y su duelo, Su dieciocho de julio, su catorce de abril

A mitad de camino entre el infierno y el cielo Yo me bajo en Atocha, yo me quedo en Madrid

Aunque la noche delire como un pájaro en llamas Aunque no dé la gloria la Puerta de Alcalá Aunque la maja desnuda cobre quince en la cama Aunque la maja vestida no se deje besar

Pasarela "Cibeles", cárcel de Yeserí­as, Puente de los Franceses, tascas de Chamberí­ Ya no sueña aquel niño que soñó que escribí­a, Corazón de Marí­a, no me dejes así­

Corte de los Milagros, Virgen de la Almudena, Chabolas de uralita, Palacio de Cristal, Con su no "pasaran", con su "vivan las caenas" Su cementerio civil, su banda municipal

He llorado en Vencia, Me he perdido en Manhattan, He crecido en la Habana, He sido un paria en Parí­s México me atormenta, Buenos Aires me mata, Pero siempre hay un tren Que desemboca en Madrid

Happy St. Isidro day, to all the handsome and nice guys, I sent you my best wishes, many strengths and

do not lose your joy and faith, I love you !!

With her openwork beret, with her silk gloves, Your stranded mermaid, your parties to keep, You come back tomorrow, your save yourself who can, His little party of mus, his little girl like that With his everything is now, with his nothing is eternal, With his rap and his chotis, with his squat and his skin, Even if summer dies and winter is in a hurry, Spring knows I'm waiting for her in Madrid With his Velázquez fall, with his Picasso Tower, His saint and his bullfighter, his Atleti, his Bourbon, Their fat women from Botero, their hotels by the way, His hash bag, his grandparents in the sun With its bonfire of snow, its verbena and its mourning, His eighteenth of July, his fourteenth of April Halfway between hell and heaven I get off in Atocha, I stay in Madrid Although the night delirium like a burning bird Although the Puerta de Alcalá does not give glory Although the naked pestle gets fifteen in bed Although the clothed pestle doesn't let herself be kissed Catwalk "Cibeles", Yeserías prison, Puente de los Franceses, bars of Chamberí That child who dreamed he wrote no longer dreams, Heart of Mary, don't leave me like this Court of Miracles, Virgen de la Almudena, Uralite shacks, Crystal Palace, With his not "pass", with his "long live the caenas" Its civil cemetery, its municipal band I have wept in Vence, I got lost in Manhattan I have grown up in Havana, I've been an outcast in Paris Mexico torments me, Buenos Aires kills me, But there is always a train


Anyta escorts . Todos los derechos reservados.​