| For my life record you're an easy run
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| that I dare to win you without emotion or end.
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| I beat it so you understand, in this donkey jargon,
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| that you are a filly for a penca cuadrera,
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| and I, old woman, have already been watched for the National...
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| You know that when I was young I looked like a lightweight;
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| he was bold, he was classy, he was handsome and a follower.
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| Because of the blood of my old man, I came out quite muddy,
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| and in those neighborhood biabas I always figured first
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| winning many endings by force of heart.
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| The affection of a mine, which took me doubled
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| in malice and experience, he took me out of loser;
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| but when I was in weight and accustomed to riding,
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| May the percanta beat you the game that was given to it!
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| Later, in the folder, I began to try my luck,
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| and many nights luck was friendly and cordial to me.
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| Other nights I went out dry to chamuyar with the moon
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| through the lonely streets of the sentimental suburb.
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| I put up with stamina in timba and ran in the milonga,
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| I distrust the folder, the same as in love.
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| I have seen it collapse without anyone disposing of it
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| a hundred castles of illusions for a mistonga cause,
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| And I've seen handsome men cry for women like you.
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| You see that on that side you are dead with your espamento;
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| I don't want love from kisses, I want love from friendship.
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| No sweet words, no cuddles and stories;
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| I'm looking for a partner to beat what I feel
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| and a woman who advises judiciously and kindly. |