They call you beauty, call you gracious
They call you belle, call you gentle...
The rose is beautiful, is gracious, is pretty,
But your grace is more subtle.
The wave that on the shore, sinuously,
The sand adorns with a thousand charms,
Has not the grace, the shiny curve
Of the lines of your body, love and whims.
They call you beauty, enchantment, a spell;
Next to your face, is a pale aquarelle
All the names the world gives to grace.
I ask to God which name I shall give you,
And God answers in me, awakening my reason:
Do not call her beautiful - Call her Woman!
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It's like Rui de Noronha wants to show just how important that word (woman) is. She's more than one thing, more than surface and symbol, a whole of her parts. That woman implies far more, and is in that manner sacred.
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