Is she an angel or a devil in disguise?

Is she full of goodness, forgiving all lies,

Or overcome by wickedness, with sharp, open eyes?

Is she polite, always saying “please,”

Or crass, foul-mouthed, words drenched in disease?

Is she covered in garments fit for her age,

Or does she flaunt it all, breaking out of the ca ge?

Is she pious, careful to avoid god’s wrath,

Or constantly wandering, fearless of any path?

Is her embrace warm, an inviting desire,

Or does her touch burn, bursting ice into fire? 

Is she walking in the guiding light,

Or does she play in the shadows, led by the night?

I know she’s an angel; he calls her mi angelito.

I know she’s a devil, at times mi espíritu oscurito.