are busking on the ground for a few coins –
stupefied by the sun.
The Spaniard almost flies away
at the end of his umbrella;
and the other one, his suitcase open,
keeps telling the silent crowd
around him he’s got nothing left to lose.
His lips are ready to whistle –
they don’t – but a cool waltz
gets out of his mouth – a garland
which he ties to the little ear
of a dreamy girl next to him.
EN 
MK