Hay un Madrid - Alberto Cortez

Hay un Madrid que se apaga,

hay un Madrid que se quema,

hay un Madrid que se queda

y hay un Madrid que se va.

Hay un Madrid que se entrega

y hay un Madrid que resiste,

hay un Madrid que no existe

y hay un Madrid que es verdad.

Hay un Madrid con ventanas

y otro con puertas abiertas

y hay un Madrid siempre alerta,

aunque digan que no está.

Hay un Madrid con gigantes

y hay un Madrid con enanos

y hay un Madrid con hermanos,

que no se han visto jamás.

Hay un Madrid que se sube

a los muros del cariño,

y ese Madrid es un niño

que no sabe adónde va.

Hay un Madrid que se baja

en la mitad del camino,

sin importarle un comino

lo que le pueda pasar.

Hay un Madrid que respeta

y hay un Madrid insolente,

uno que muestra los dientes

cuando lo quieren tocar.

Hay un Madrid que es culpable

y hay un Madrid inocente;

hay un Madrid diferente

que no se puede explicar.

Hay un Madrid de «„Don Juanes“»

y hay un Madrid de impotentes

y un Madrid indiferente

al que todo igual le da.

Hay un Madrid conformista

y hay un Madrid poderoso.

Hay un Madrid caprichoso,

al que nada bien le va.

A veces es un infierno

y a veces un paraíso,

a veces un indeciso

que no atina a reaccionar.

A veces en plena calma,

hay un Madrid que revienta

a veces sin darse cuenta

que se pueda lastimar.

Un telegrama que llega

y hay un Madrid de esperanza

y el Madrid de la añoranza,

empieza a quedar atrás…

Hay un fecha marcada,

una que dice «„mañana“»

y hay un Madrid con campanas,

que se han echado a volar…

Entonces, suenan canciones…

entonces, vuelan palomas…

y hay un Madrid que se asoma,

cual si fuera Navidad…

Es el Madrid que me gusta

y es el Madrid que me entrego,

es el Madrid que yo quiero…

conmigo siempre llevar.

There is a Madrid that goes out,

there is a Madrid that burns,

there is a Madrid that stays

and there is a Madrid that is leaving.

There is a Madrid that gives itself

and there is a Madrid that resists,

there is a Madrid that does not exist

and there is a Madrid that is true.

There is a Madrid with windows

and another with open doors

and there is a Madrid always alert,

even if they say it's not.

There is a Madrid with giants

and there is a Madrid with dwarves

and there is a Madrid with brothers,

that have never been seen.

There is a Madrid that rises

to the walls of affection,

and that Madrid is a child

who doesn't know where he's going.

There is a Madrid that goes down

in the middle of the road,

not giving a damn

what can happen to him.

There is a Madrid that respects

and there is an insolent Madrid,

one showing teeth

when they want to touch it.

There is a Madrid that is guilty

and there is an innocent Madrid;

there is a different Madrid

that cannot be explained.

There is a Madrid of «„Don Juanes“»

and there is a Madrid of powerless

and an indifferent Madrid

to whom everything is the same.

There is a conformist Madrid

and there is a powerful Madrid.

There is a capricious Madrid,

to whom nothing goes well.

Sometimes it's hell

and sometimes a paradise,

sometimes an indecisive

that does not manage to react.

Sometimes in complete calm,

there is a Madrid that bursts

sometimes without realizing

that can be hurt.

A telegram that arrives

and there is a Madrid of hope

and the Madrid of longing,

starting to fall behind...

There is a marked date,

one that says «„tomorrow“»

and there is a Madrid with bells,

that have taken flight...

Then songs come on...

then doves fly...

and there is a Madrid that appears,

as if it were Christmas...

It is the Madrid that I like

and it is the Madrid that I give myself,

It is the Madrid that I want...

with me always carry.