MIA MOTHER NOT CRY
Oh, how those days are far
I’m singing joyful and pleasant,
playing with my black hair
slept in a soft lap me!
With that sweet rapture recojías
stammering passing sentence
which, being the first of my lips
You kept repeating with maternal pride!
Today that old age in grief,
breaks my beard white ermine,
and I contemplate life without charm,
remembering your heavenly affection,
my eyes tired springs crying,
because, thinking of you, I feel child
Gave a blow with a trembling hand
and sad about his venerated tomb;
and no one answered … I called in vain
because the mother of my love does not exist!
I called, and cold rule
said a voice was raised: If there!
Mothers never die … My son
from the grave I watch you sad …
Mothers never die!
If you leave the earthly shell,
up to God, spiral clouds …
The mother is immortal!
EL ROSARIO OF MY MOTHER
Of the memories of your sad legacy,
just keep it, oh mother!, your rosary,
accounts seem Calvary
in your life recorriste penalties.
Where you put your fingers to pray,
as one who prays to God before the shrine,
in my lonely hours of sick
I put the kisses you gave me.
His binoculars and dark glasses,
beaded necklace, pure and kisses,
make me sleep, beautiful circle.
And in my humble bed between coat
I think you sleep with me
with arms thrown around my neck.
I would sing very loud lira
to this great woman author of life,
be that cute dreamy mind,
Flying to infinity the wounded soul.
Beside a bassinet surprises dawn,
looking so radiant that pink flowered
without ever showing fatigue per hour
delivered the child with love without measure.
At home and devoted wife,
planting seeds of love and tenderness;
with their offspring is always generous
and illusions cultivated with moderation.
Worketh willingly with her hands
to bring bread from afar;
is the support of all elderly
and inexhaustible source of advice.
Clad in love and patience
Face pain and sorrow;
by continuing the child in her passion.
That woman is distressed absent son,
man who has no fortune
for the sufferer when present,
by crying when in the cradle.
Al foolish heart hear nothing,
for I have been lost in oblivion,
she hears from afar when fighting
and patiently awaits his return.
How can we forget the moments of joy,
these songs sung to the moon,
his immense pleasure in goodies,
by paths with the pen scrawl.
Thank you Lord for this beautiful mother,
who taught the fear of your existence,
that illuminates my life as a star,
to follow the path to your presence.
Your first caresses, my mother,
that child, cheerful offered me
Love in the chest I keep a contention
bouquet of kisses that you gave me.
I love my pride distance
you brought those sweet tips.
I love the arrogance and audacity
scolding all you did to me.
Love in you the virginal purity,
the sweet softness of jasmine
and the only hope of my cry.
You are the embodiment of beauty,
the perfume of all the gardens
God and the song of infinity.