LET ME BE YOUR MOTHER

Do not abandon the valley of your origin,
do not cast me away from the course of your river;
I am the faithful riverbed for your journey,
from the spring to the sea of your destiny.
Your springtime, which leaves me hibernating
in the frozen corner of oblivion,
bears tender flowers that are fragile
and often lose their petals at the first cold wind.

I continue waiting for the dawn,
for the warmth that may dissolve your mist;
I gather the honey of my hives,
built within the fields of your wound.
I shall not wither in the cruel winter,
for my old leaves have become thorns,
made everlasting through so much waiting
for your love, frozen upon distant shores.

In the wisdom of your autumn,
with your good heart of solid gold,
you will return to seek within your roots
the true direction of the path.
And so I quietly, peacefully shelter
my faith in your awakening from fleeting dreams,
the ending of your innocent illusions,
the stilling of volcanic deliriums.

I sense your waterfalls, your currents,
the flowing water in your swelling tide;
let me be your mother and share,
with tenderness, your sorrows and your joys.
In the radiance of your gaze,
once the storm of summer has grown calm,
we shall rejoice, beneath eternity's sun,
in the blessing of feeling ourselves mother and child.

Emma-Margarita R. A.-Valdés

Traductora: Vekas Rodica

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