Why be ashamed? When one has done time, br if they let one out, it's because like everybody else br who belongs to the streets, one has been in prison. br br From morning till evening we wander the avenues br whether it's raining or a beautiful sun's showing its face. br It's a joy to meet on the avenues people who talk br and talking among ourselves, bump into girls. br It's a joy to wait and whistle at girls from doorways, br hug them on the streets and take them to movies br and smoking in secret, lean on their beautiful knees. br It's a joy to talk and finger them laughing, br and at night in bed, feeling flung on one's neck br their two arms pulling you down, thinking of morning br when one is released from prison in the fresh sunlight. br br From morning till evening wandering drunk br and watching laughing passersby enjoying everybody br —even ugly people—just to feel themselves on the streets. br From morning till evening singing drunkenly br and meeting drunkards and starting discussions br that last a long time and make us thirsty. br All these characters who go talking among themselves, br we want them with us at night, down in the trough, br and to hound them with our guitar br that skips drunkenly and cannot stay confined br but throws the doors wide open to echo in the air— br outside water or stars may rain down. It doesn't matter br if on the avenues at this hour no beautiful girls are strolling: br among us is one who laughs to himself br because he has also been released from prison tonight, br and with him, raising a ruckus and singing, we'll make it to morning.