Rosa de Barro

Lady María Tabárez, 31-05 of '82

Daughter of the street, survivor of the cement
That was me, that's me
A rose of evil, a rose of Sun
It's me, I was
A rose captive of violence, glory, and pain

Twenty-six thorns remained stuck
In the heart, the soul of stolen roses
In rich gardens to sell them at night
In all the bars, in all the cars

Twenty-six thorns that year after year
She removed in solitude of distant perfume
A past glory held tightly in her hands
That bleeds in the red sheath of vain dreams

Daughter of the street, survivor of the cement
That was me, that's me
A rose of evil, a rose of Sun
It's me, I was
A rose captive of violence, glory, and pain

Thirty bullets that painted the whole room red
Nothing was the same after the impacts
The love by her side was gone forever
At the window of her cell remembering the past

Twenty-six thorns stuck in her chest
For something she has never done in her life
She will walk again with her head held high
Picking up the withered roses from the asphalt
Having the opportunity to fulfill her mother's wishes
Give her a home and a stable life
May the promises not just remain as they are
Written in letters with imprisoned desires

Daughter of the street, survivor of the cement
That was me, that's me
A rose of evil, a rose of Sun
It's me, I was
A rose captive of violence, glory, and pain