She's been adopted by everybody
the one taking care of the babies.
She moved them to tears with her story of poor mother
The countdown has started
She was giving all her tenderness to those babies
And she loved them less than him.
Him, this monster, who couldn't be shifted,
Who drew, his strength from all those babies.
She was bringing them as an offertory.
In the wood, the oak was crying
to have swapped the maternal perfume for the foliage.
Who knows how far she can go,
this mysterious nurse lurking around the cradle?
