Griseta

Rare mixture of Museta and Mimi
with caresses of Rodolfo and Schaunard,
she was the flower of Paris
that a dream of a novel brought to the suburb...
And in the mad wanderings of the cabaret..,
to the lullaby of some tango compadrón,
she encouraged an illusion:
I dreamed of Des Grieux,
she wanted to be Manon.

French girl,
you brought, pizpireta,
sentimental and flirtatious
the poetry of the quartier,
who would say
that your T-shirt poem
would have only one stanza:
the silent agony
of Marguerite Gauthier?

But the cold sordidness of the slum.
withering away the purity of her faith,
without finding her Duval,
dried up her heart like a thrush.
And one night of champagne and coconut,
to the funeral lullaby of a bandoneon,
poor thing, she fell asleep,
the same as Mimi,
the same as Manon.