Mano a mano

Lost in my sadness, I evoke you and see that you have been
in my poor wretched life, only a good woman.
Your presence as a tough woman brought warmth to my nest,
you were good, consistent, and I know you have loved me
like you didn't love anyone, like you won't be able to love.

The game of remanye was played when you, poor woman,
dodged poverty in the boarding house.
Today you're a tough woman, life laughs and sings for you,
you play the fool's money like a street vendor
as the sly cat plays with the wretched mouse.

Now you have the mate full of unhappy illusions,
you were deceived by fools, friends, and the pimp;
the tango, among magnates, with its crazy temptations,
where tango pretensions triumph and fail,
it has entered deep into your poor heart.

I owe you nothing, we are even;
I don't care what you have done, what you do, or what you will do...
I believe I have repaid the favors received
and if I unintentionally forgot a small debt,
you can charge it to the fool you have.

Meanwhile, may your triumphs, poor fleeting triumphs,
be a long line of wealth and pleasure;
may the pimp who shelters you have lasting pesos,
may you leave the stops with milonguero pimps
and may the boys say: She is a good woman.
And tomorrow, when you are a worn-out old piece of furniture
and you have no hope in your poor heart,
if you need help, if you need advice,
remember this friend who will risk his skin
to help you in whatever way he can when the time comes.