I have a hero; Without a cape without supernatural powers, without clairvoyance of minds, without comic strips that make it famous. He only has hands, he only has love and he only has everything; has wisdom has subtle and sublime essence. It encloses in its bosom a great history, hands of thrust that caress the countryside that mold hillsides, that multiply the fruit that gives us the earth. Those father hands of so much firm that they have been my guide in the narrow direction; Guardian of my childhood, he taught me integrity probed my steps to adolescence.
Father Copy your values, we follow your decency, love, work, patience and conscience. Who can do it again? God forgot your recipe why you are my only warrior on the table, table where the game of greatness is formulated. If there is a trophy in your hand, be it your father, my friend, a farmer of the land who has always told me never to forget my origin from where my existence is.
Now that you have done your part, continue on the scene, your correction I need your gray hair represents me, your name is my brand that I will wear in my head, thank you for your occupation, thank you for so much nobility, thank you for not giving up your gigantic work.
