Fuego En La Piel

Fire in the skin,
source of water and honey,
which wind made you born
and put you on earth making you beautiful and woman?

Freely you walk,
there's no reason to stop you
from imposing your way of doing things
going through battles that I feel to the sound of another law.

They see you as a rare pleasure animal;
they see you as the one they wanted to be one day.
Wounded dove,
my thornless rose,
feeling that nothing changed,
until the final day you will seek what never came:
love.