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