Para Una Madre Soltera

Lucia: Hers was a love sincere to the point of pain,
Love of those that never end.
His was fleeting, painted with passion,
Love of the night, mid-morning.
Hers was a love with only one name,
His just another name in his list of loves.
Hers was vital, authentic, ideal,
His just a love for special occasions.
Hers gave birth on a hot day,
In a bed with only one pillow,
His didn't want to be there, dressed in absence,
And disappeared without saying a word.
Hers finally arrived, with the same name,
His a name he soon forgot,
Hers was greater than fear and pain,
His already had a new face.
And a lullaby was heard...
Lucia: Love of my soul, I am here,
Don't be afraid, please,
I will never leave you, trust me,
Believe me...
Love of my soul, oh love...
Sleep my child, sleep like this,
For I have the courage to spare,
To go on, to go on...