Primeiro de Maio

Today the city is at a standstill
And he speeds up the walk
To wake up your girlfriend right there
And he goes smiling, he goes distressed
To show off, full of himself
That today he is master of his hands
And the tools

When the siren doesn't whistle
She wakes up more beautiful
Your skin is your chintz, your fustian
And, for better or worse, it's your velvet
It's the taffeta that God gave you
And blessed is the fruit of sweat
Of the work that is only yours

Today they will consecrate
All day to love each other so much
He, the craftsman
Make your workshop inside it
And she, the weaver
Will spin in the meshes of your belly
The man of tomorrow

The man of tomorrow