into your house and sit by your side,
let me do the sleeping and stir with your fingers
tangles of my hair.
Let me lie in your lap, mother,
for me to go all the tears oppress my soul,
do not know
be sad if your hand is not close to catch it. Let
follow you around the corner from your house,
I can not stand to see one
and then pulls back the curtain of the window to look
together the street as we accompany life. Let
found at the bottom of your eyes
noonday and build your cold sun torments me. Let
singing your name, mother,
not want to hear my sound anymore.
Photo: F. Manuel de la Cruz
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