For all the violence imposed on her.
For all the humilation she has suffered.
For the body that you exploited.
For the intelligence that you have condemned her for.
For the ignorance that made you leave her.
For the freedom that you have denied her.
For the mouth you shut, and the wings you clipped.

Stand, gentlemen, now in front of a woman,
and this is not enough,
bow everytime you look at her soul,
because she knows how to see yours,
because she knows how to make it sing.

Stand, gentlemen, whenever she caresses your hand,
everytime she dries your tears,
as if you were one of her children,
and when she waits, even if she wants to run.

Stand, and remain standing, my friends,
when she enters the room singing of love,
and when she hides her pain and loneliness
while having the terrible need to be loved.

Do not try to stretch your hand to help
when she collapses under the weight of the world,
she does not need your pity.

She needs you to sit on the ground with her
and wait for the beat of her heart to slow down
and her fear to disappear,
and the world to continue to turn quietly.

She is the first to stand
and to give you a hand to help you pull yourself up
and bring you closer to the sky.

High in the sky, where her soul lives,
and where, gentlemen, you will never tear her from.

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