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The tough guy cried that night on the cement floor
And an imposing and fierce gesture painted his face.
He took the pen angrily, while stifling a lament
To his unforgettable mother, he wrote this letter:

A cruel doubt haunts me
And it's stronger than this gate
That serves as my prison.
It's not that it hurts me
The ugliness of my confinement
And thrown like a dog
Tucked away in a corner
I want,
For her to tell me frankly
If it's true that from my room
Another man has taken ownership.

Tell me, mother, if it's true that the infamous woman
Taking advantage of my imprisonment has deceived me...
And if it's true that the kid has been left
In the house of homeless kids...
If that's the case... curse the ungrateful one!...
One day I will get out and then, old lady,
I swear by the cross I made on the gate
That I will collect that debt with my dagger.

You who never lied to me,
You who gave me everything,
Don't have pity on me
Because, even though it hurts me,
I want to know the truth...
It's not the fear of losing her
Nor the fear of betrayal.
But,
When I think of the kid
I feel like a knot is forming
Where I have my heart.