El club de las mujeres muertas

To those who rebel, do not stay silent
the humble and the meek
those who imagine impossible things
the right to be happy

To those who live alone, trampled
those who no longer expect anything
to the forsaken and forgotten
to those who fall and rise

How many humiliated lives
how many silent tears
the saddest thing is the sadness
in the club of the dead women

Sometimes because they look, because they stay silent
because they think they give themselves away
sometimes because they tell, because they cry
or because they don't understand anything

There are those who forgive everything to those who kill them
for a kiss, a glance
there are those who wait for everything from those they love
and do not lose hope

How many humiliated lives...

Burned, dragged by the hair
tortured, devastated
legally raped, stabbed
some judge looks and passes by

They say they are jealous and clouded
that they do not know what they did
and when they drink they say it's not them
I am me plus this hell

How many humiliated lives...