Very nice work Rosa
Too much, I have experienced in these years,
Too many are those who owe me tears.
I remember that gray platform
Where the rain carried a friend.
Then do not bloom
My dear apple trees,
Neither anyone whispered in my ear:
Darling, do not forget me.
Never have I been afraid
Yet on this trip until tomorrow.
Little boy has avoided the dangers
side by side the kind woman reflection.
I know the mothers weeping eyelids
Do not explain the words out loud,
They just give their boys love for guidance
and prayers for protection.
The final two times:
Now bloom my dear
Sacred apple trees.
They have the heavenly scent,
The fragrance that never go away.
in December 1982
I have written this song in December 1982 after reading Salvatore Quasimodo’s poem Letter to My Mother and while the rain gently fingered the…
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