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(recitation)
The malevo cried that night on the cement floor
and an imposing and fierce gesture was painted on his face.
He angrily picked up his pen, while choking back a wail
to his unforgettable mother he wrote this letter:

(sung)
Old woman:
A cruel doubt afflicts me
and it is stronger than this grille
that serves me as a prison.
It's not that I'm bitter
the sadness of my confinement
and lying like a dog
lumped in a corner
I want,
to tell me frankly
if it is true that another man
became the owner of another man.

Tell me, mother, if it is true that the infamous one
abusing the fact that I am a prisoner has deceived me...
And if it's true that the little boy has been left
in the house of the homeless kids...
If so... Woe betide the ungrateful one!...
Someday I'll get out and then, old woman,
I swear to you by the cross I made on the grating
that I will collect that debt with my dagger.

Old woman:
You who never lied to me,
you who gave me everything,
don't have pity on me
that, even if it hurts me
I want to know the truth...
It is not the fear of losing it
nor is it the fear of betrayal.
But,
when I think of the baby
I feel like I have a seven
where my heart is.