Essa Mulher

Early in the morning this lady resigns herself
Sets the table, dusts, does the laundry, dries her eyes
Oh, how this saint never forgets
To pray for women, for children, for bread

Then she smiles somewhat embarrassed
And embraces that man, that world that makes her so happy
In the late afternoon this girl courts herself
Adorns herself, decorates herself, knows everything, doesn't mind
Oh, how this thing is so beautiful
To be a singer, to be an artist, all of this is very good

And cries so much with pleasure and agony
One day, any day, to understand how to be happy
At dawn this woman causes so much damage
Takes off her clothes, makes the bed, turns the table, dries the bar
Oh, how this crazy woman forgets
How much men go crazy in that mouth, on that floor

Then it seems like she finds it funny
And thanks fate for all that makes her so unhappy
This girl, this woman, this lady
Whom I bump into every hour in the casual mirror
Is made of shadow and so much light