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Blue Handlebar

María Elena Walsh

Manubrio Azul

Un abuelo, un abuelo muy viejito
Por el parque se pasea con bastón
No le importa si llegó la primavera
Solo espera cobrar la jubilación

De repente, de repente se detiene
Y algo busca que se le perdió
Mira al suelo, mira al cielo
Y mira alrededor

Por dónde andará, manubrio azul
Color de un triciclo del ayer
Un juguete de pura nostalgia
Que a su infancia lo lleve otra vez
Que se ponga a rodar para atrás
Hasta mil novecientos tres

Por dónde andará, manubrio azul
Relámpago de felicidad
El abuelo se trepa a una hamaca
Se desliza por el tobogán
Y cabalgando en el sube y baja
A su antigua niñez se va

Por dónde andará, manubrio azul
Amor que el olvido le robó
El azul de su viejo triciclo
De repente lo halló en una flor
Una flor que esperaba en el tiempo
Y solo por él florece hoy

Un abuelo, un abuelo muy viejito
Por el parque se pasea con bastón
Solo espera recobrar la primavera
No le importa nada la jubilación

De repente, de repente se detiene
A ponerse la flor en el ojal
Ese algo que esperaba
No se marchitará

Blue Handlebar

An old man, an old man so frail
Strolling through the park with his cane
He doesn’t care that spring has arrived
He just waits to collect his pension

Suddenly, suddenly he stops
And looks for something he lost
He gazes at the ground, looks at the sky
And checks all around

Where could it be, blue handlebar
The color of a tricycle from back in the day
A toy of pure nostalgia
That takes him back to his childhood again
Let it roll back
To nineteen oh three

Where could it be, blue handlebar
A flash of happiness
The old man climbs into a hammock
Slides down the slide
And riding on the seesaw
He returns to his old childhood

Where could it be, blue handlebar
A love that forgetfulness stole away
The blue of his old tricycle
Suddenly found it in a flower
A flower that waited through time
And blooms today just for him

An old man, an old man so frail
Strolling through the park with his cane
He just hopes to regain his spring
He doesn’t care about the pension

Suddenly, suddenly he stops
To pin the flower on his lapel
That something he was waiting for
Will not wither away

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