La violetera

The pretty violet
her flowers are offering...
The jokes answering
with spiritual grace.
And to the serious and the cheerful
and to the rich and the poor
she leaves a bouquet
pinned in his buttonhole.
The tables of the 'Concert',
noisy with joy,
with beautiful merchandise
comes to perfuming
and in this crazy kingdom
of wine and laughter
serene glides
saying thus in passing:

Gentlemen! You are my flowers
pets of fortune
and you must see it in your loves
if you keep any
of those that I offer you here...
Gentlemen! My violets
have sprouted in the gardens
where poets roam
and lovely cherubs
cut them for me.

The pretty violet,
mixed with joy,
disguises her agony
with lyrical proclamation...
One day she gave her soul
as fragrant as her flowers
and her loves were
paid with treachery.
She has left her romance
the most precious inheritance
the light of her existence:
Her baby... Who is her God!
For him and for her sweet
dreams that have died,
suddenly in the 'Concert'
thus proclaims his voice:

Gentlemen! With emotion
I scatter the basket
and for her sake I ask you
to turn your pockets inside out
all those who have a heart.
Gentlemen! Is there anyone
who won't buy even a sprig
knowing that each one of you
will give bread for a little child
and a mother protection?