I am not your lady!...
I am not any kind of a lady!
I was spawned in a ditch
By a mother who left me there,
Naked and cold and too hungry to cry;
I never blamed her.
I'm sure she left hoping
That I'd have the good sense to die!
Then, of course, there's my father...
I'm told that young ladies
Can point to their fathers
With maidenly pride;
Mine was some regiment
Here for an hour,
I can't even tell you which side!
So of course I became,
As befitted my delicate birth,
The most casual bride
Of the murdering scum of the earth!
And still thou art my lady.
And still he torments me!
How should I be a lady?
For a lady has modest and maidenly airs,
And a virtue I somehow suspect that I lack;
It's hard to remember these maidenly airs
In a stable laid flat on your back!
Won't you look at me, look at me,
God, won't you look at me!
Look at the kitchen slut reeking with sweat!
Born on a dung heap to die on a dung heap,
A strumpet men use and forget!
If you feel that you see me
Not quite at my virginal best,
Cross my palm with a coin,
And I'll willingly show you the rest!
Never deny thou art Dulcinea.
Take the clouds from your eyes
and see me as I really am!
You have shown me the sky,
But what good is the sky
To a creature who'll never
Do better than crawl?
Of all the cruel bastards
Who've badgered and battered me,
You are the cruelest of all!
Can't you see what your gentle
Insanities do to me?
Rob me of anger and give me despair! Blows and abuse
I can take and give back again,
Tenderness I cannot bear!
So please torture me now
With your "Sweet Dulcineas" no more!
I am no one! I'm nothing!
I'm only Aldonza the whore!
Now and forever thou art my lady Dulcinea!
(Aldonza screams in despair and collapses.
As Don Quixote lies in bed dying, his mind
"retreats to some secret place." )