SHE DOES NOT KNOW TIME
My mother does not have many things.
She has many thorns in her feet.
My mother is preparing the soil
To sow corn and wheat
My mother lifts up her hands
She waits for something.
Many tears are running along her face
She does not have bread to feed her offspring.
Thinking about tomorrow
She can not sleep in peace.
Tomorrow is a new battle for her
Against society’s injustice
Sometimes she looks tired, pensive, and sad.
It stops my heart for a while.
She does not talk too much
Just a few times she has smiled
My mother works every day.
She does not think about death.
She is getting old
She has many wrinkles on her forehead.
She does not think about time
She does not know holidays.
She does not know day and night.
She never saw a star shining in space.
Blessed are the poor!
Someone said.
My mother does not believe it
She needs the material bread
She walks barefoot
She never lifts up her head even if I tell her: look there!
Perhaps she is ashamed
She covers her face with her hat.
Is she ashamed? Why?
Does she have leprosy?
She is ashamed
of her misery.
Oh mother! Oh sublime love!
Perhaps tomorrow you will find something new.
O perhaps tomorrow
The heavens will be open for you.
PHOENIX
My mother does not have many things.
She has many thorns in her feet.
My mother is preparing the soil
To sow corn and wheat
My mother lifts up her hands
She waits for something.
Many tears are running along her face
She does not have bread to feed her offspring.
Thinking about tomorrow
She can not sleep in peace.
Tomorrow is a new battle for her
Against society’s injustice
Sometimes she looks tired, pensive, and sad.
It stops my heart for a while.
She does not talk too much
Just a few times she has smiled
My mother works every day.
She does not think about death.
She is getting old
She has many wrinkles on her forehead.
She does not think about time
She does not know holidays.
She does not know day and night.
She never saw a star shining in space.
Blessed are the poor!
Someone said.
My mother does not believe it
She needs the material bread
She walks barefoot
She never lifts up her head even if I tell her: look there!
Perhaps she is ashamed
She covers her face with her hat.
Is she ashamed? Why?
Does she have leprosy?
She is ashamed
of her misery.
Oh mother! Oh sublime love!
Perhaps tomorrow you will find something new.
O perhaps tomorrow
The heavens will be open for you.
PHOENIX
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