My Child, Go to Bed.

Madre, no puedo dormirme.
Me duele la inseguridad,
Me duele cuando puedo oirlo.
Que no me quiere contestar.

¿Cuando voy a poder dormir?
¿Cuando voy a escuchar la voz
que me a puesto en cama, que
me dijo que siempre me ayudará?

Me temblan mis manos, me tembla
mi voz.

Mother, When can I go home?
I feel weak, and so far somehow,
The sun does not have the warmth
That it did with you.

On this knoll I feel the leaves of grass,
Shivering at my ankles.
Are they as afraid as I?
Mother Earth kisses their feet.

Are they as afraid as I am?

Our trees seem hollow, and
Nature seems plastic, wax.
The entire image seems false,
withered, as if a breeze would
COLLAPSE it.

Is She as scared?

Here leaf by leaf, we put up a fight.
Here we can grasp at every green finger,
Lingering on each note, as the leaves
whisper through the air, falling in
a pool, and drifting on.

There was a nonchalance carrying that
fallen limb, at the child's FEET.
My Heart does not beat the same as hers.
The child. She needs a home, and I
Stand Rooted.

I want to hug her, But the swarm
Inside me pinching at her toes,
are the only touch I can muster.

Madre, ven por mi.

My foliage returns next spring,
but she only passes by from here
to then.

No dejas que te saca la alma.
No dejas que te apaga tu fuego.

Duermate, que este arbol,
siempre pondra las manos
pidiendole al cielo que
te protege.

Mother, this tree is empty.
And I cannot watch it decay
anymore.
Putrid thing,
poor thing.

Let it die, and I'll
stay. Hoping to stay my
overwhelmed mind.