Essa Mulher

Early in the morning, this lady settles
Set the table, dust it off
Wash the dishes, dry her eyes

Ah, how this saint doesn't forget
To ask for women
For the children, for the bread

Then, she smiles awkwardly
And embraces that man, that world
That makes her so happy

In the afternoon, this girl falls in love
She adorns herself, decorates herself
Knows everything, it doesn't hurt

Oh, how beautiful this thing is
Being a singer, being an artist
This is all very good

And she cries so much, with pleasure and agony
Of someday, any day
Understanding of being happy

In the early hours of the morning, this woman does so much damage
Take off her clothes, makes the bed
Turns the table, dries the bar

Oh, how this crazy woman forgets
How many men go crazy
In her mouth, on this ground

Then, it seems like she finds it funny
And thanks fate for all that
Makes her so unhappy

This girl, this woman, this lady
Who I bump into all the time
In the casual mirrors

She is made of shadow and so much light
Of so much mud and so much cross
That she thinks everything is natural