Cientos de veces fui feliz en la plaza del barrio.
De niño jugué al futbol en su piso de tierra seca, y me hamaqué en sus juegos oxidados de amarillo refulgor.
De grande quise hacer deporte un día en su cancha de basquet reluciente... y me di cuenta que yo era más del tipo de llevar una lata de cerveza al banquito con sombra del arbol añejo. Y vi miles de pajaros vivos cantar, y uno solo muerto. Y vi instalarse juegos y espacios pensando en las infancias, y me alegré como un abuelito.
_Hundreds of times I was happy in the neighborhood square.
As a child I played soccer on its dry dirt floor, and I swung on its rusty yellow playground equipment.
When I grew up I wanted to play sports one day on its shiny basketball court... and I realized that I was more of the type to take a can of beer to the bench in the shade of the old tree. And I saw thousands of live birds singing, and only one dead one. And I saw games and spaces being set up with children in mind, and I was happy like a grandfather.
