Esas manos.....
Esas manos tan delicadas que ya no están.
Esas dulces manos de la mujer que me dio el pecho al nacer.
Esas manos angelicales de una madre, están ausentes.
¿Dónde, entonces, las encontraré?
Esas manos, se han ido.
Me lo dice su habitación, cuyo perfume es la soledad.
Esas manos de mi madre muerta, ya no están.
Su perfume llena mi corazón de soledad.
Esas manos de la anciana que me cuidó.
Esas manos, ya no están.
Las manos de la anciana que cocinaba ricas comidas,
esas manos, ya no están.
Las manos de mi madre que me acariciaban al atardecer,
esas manos, ya no están.
Soledad y silencio en su habitación,
se ha ido la mujer que me dio calor.
Aquellas manos de mi madre, cuando me caía,
esas manos solían levantarme.
Las manos de mi madre, se han ido,
si vuelvo a caer, esas manos,
no volverán a levantarme.
Esas manos que me guiaron desde niño
a la escuela,
Esas manos, no me guiarán de nuevo.
Las manos de mi madre, extraño mucho, ellas me hacen falta.
Imagen source
Those hands.....
Those delicate hands that are no longer there.
Those sweet hands of the woman who breastfed me at birth.
Those angelic hands of a mother, they are absent.
Where, then, will I find them?
Those hands, they are gone.
Their room tells me so, whose perfume is loneliness.
Those hands of my dead mother, they are gone.
Their perfume fills my heart with loneliness.
Those hands of the old woman who took care of me.
Those hands, they're gone.
The hands of the old woman who cooked rich meals,
those hands, they're gone.
My mother's hands that caressed me at sunset,
those hands, they are gone.
Loneliness and silence in her room,
gone is the woman who gave me warmth.
Those hands of my mother, when I fell,
those hands used to lift me up.
My mother's hands, they're gone,
if I fall again, those hands,
won't pick me up again.
Those hands that guided me since I was a child
to school,
Those hands, they won't guide me again.
My mother's hands, I miss them so much, I miss them.