Primeiro de Maio (part. Chico Buarque)

Today the city is still
And he hurries his walk
To wake up his girlfriend right there
And he goes smiling, goes anxious
To show, full of himself
That today he is the master of his hands
And the tools

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

Today they will consecrate
The whole day to love each other so much
He, the craftsman
Works inside her as his workshop
And she, the weaver
Will weave in the meshes of her womb
The man of tomorrow