Esclavas blancas

Tortured souls,
poor white slaves of tango and milonga.
Unclean women,
automatons of vice, soulless and loveless!...
I don't know why tonight
your pupils reflect the sorrow that kills you
and in every laugh,
I know, poor milonga, the heart sobs.

Maybe your own guilt
perhaps the disillusionment
of the man you loved
and today to forget him
you get your soul drunk
with tango and champagne.
But think, milonga
that there is a little creature
with little white hands
that at this very moment
maybe to some strangers
she will call mother...

Don't you understand, milonga
that you spend your life in a joyful farce,
where you need,
to conquer men, eternal youth.
But the years go by
leaving their memories, very ungrateful memories
and when old and ugly
your 'friends' find you,
you'll see what ingratitude.

I know that you are good,
that you will listen to this plea
of this sincere friend.
Do not follow the path
of easy pleasures, tango and champagne.
Think for five minutes
about that little creature
with little white hands
who at this very moment,
maybe to some strangers, she will call them mom!