Macarena y el espejo

She paints herself with a marker,
drawing herself, drawing herself.
Fake lips, red like a carnation,
smudging it on, asking
if it looks good this way,
feminine,
ignoring me, ignoring me.

Macarena, Macarena,
Macarena wants to be a woman.

She looks at herself in her apron,
shaping her curves, shaping her curves.
In front of the mirror, she can't wait,
learning it, learning
the subtle code,
millennia old,
surprising me, surprising her.

(One hand on her hip,
eyes on the mirror,
she dreams of the rhythm
that will come to her from afar)

Macarena, Macarena,
Macarena wants to be a woman.
Everyone looks lost,
laughing, getting their clothes wet in the sea.