Barcelona s'il·lumina [English translation]

Separated they flirt

near the Spanish square

hipsters with beard and glasses

have gotten lost in garages,

they appear when it's dark

traveling tinsmiths

and a drug dealer has a field day

in the Sants station

Recycled ex-alcoholics

dressed up as runners,

burt up journalists

that make a living out of making banners,

arrive to the Ciutat Vella

songwriters that don't sing anymore

and at the door of the Ovella

four tourists can't stand up

Unemployed with three degrees,

someone with connections that only get payed,

small gifts on the sidewalks,

retirees that maneuver,

police in an alley

have lost control

with a percussion group

near the Sol square.

They've remade the Rambla

so that the tourists will come back,

there are no more artists

the musicians have left,

a few chinese people drawing portraits,

Canetes gets further away

and there are no more angry people

in Catalunya square.

When the days get darker

and we are no longer slaves

the sadness turns into hapiness

and we open doors with no keys

when the routine dies

in a small part of the city

Barcelona lights up

when I have you by my side.

The one from the Setmana Tràgica,

the one who hates the outskirts,

the one who lives a magical night

on a Wednesday at the stadium,

the beautiful one, the unhealthy one

the one from the Arena social circle

the one who on October 12th

feels seconhand embarassement.

The one from the welcoming clubs,

the one who adores the gulls

and burns trash containers

and destroys phone cabins,

there is no respect

for live music

and we don't have a project

to give it life.

When the days get darker

and we are no longer slaves

the sadness turns into hapiness

and we open doors with no keys

when the routine dies

in a small part of the city

Barcelona lights up

when I have you by my side.

Some german tourists

in the fusion cots

with mexican hats

go looking for some massage

and in the chaotic Gothic quarter

some boys in skateboards

go looking for some narcotics

to live until tomorrow.

When the days get darker

and we are no longer slaves

the sadness turns into hapiness

and we open doors with no keys

when the routine dies

in a small part of the city

Barcelona lights up

when I have you by my side.

• Artist:Buhos