| I whistle in my sadness, today I evoke you and I see that you have been | 
| in my poor life only a good woman pariah; | 
| your cool presence put heat in my nest, | 
| you were good, consistent, and I know you loved me | 
| like you didn't love anyone, like you won't be able to love. | 
| The game of remanye occurred when you, poor percanta, | 
| you evaded poverty in the boarding house; | 
| today you are a real cool, life laughs at you and sings, | 
| the morlacos of the otario you throw them to the march | 
| how the maula cat plays with the miserable mouse. | 
| Today you have mate full of unhappy illusions: | 
| the otarians, the friends, the gabion, grouped you | 
| the milonga between tycoons with its crazy temptations | 
| where milonga pretensions triumph and surrender | 
| it has entered deep into your poor heart. | 
| I have nothing to thank you for, hand in hand we have stayed | 
| I do not care what you have done, what you do or what you will do; | 
| I think I have repaid the favors received | 
| and if I accidentally forgot some small debt | 
| In the account of the notary that you have, you load it. | 
| Meanwhile, may your triumphs, poor passing triumphs, | 
| be a long line of riches and pleasure; | 
| that the bacán that sleeps you has lasting weights, | 
| that you open up at the stops with cafishios milongueros, | 
| and let the boys say: «she is a good woman». | 
| And tomorrow, when you are misplaced old furniture | 
| and do not have hopes in the poor heart, | 
| if you need help, if you need advice, | 
| remember this friend who has to risk his skin | 
| to help you in whatever way I can when the time comes. |