Como Pájaros En El Aire
Ángela Leiva
Like Birds in the Air
My mother's hands
Seem like birds in the air
Kitchen stories
Between her hunger-wounded wings
My mother's hands
Know what happens in the mornings
When she kneads life
Clay ovens, bread of hope
My mother's hands
Arrive in the courtyard early
Everything turns into a party
When they fly alongside other birds
With the birds that love life
And build it with work
Wood burns, flour and clay
The everyday becomes magical
Becomes magical
My mother's hands
Represent to me an open sky
And a cherished memory
Warm rags in the winters
They offer themselves warmly
Noble, sincere, clean of everything
How will be the hands
Of the one who moves them out of hatred
My mother's hands
Arrive in the courtyard early
Everything turns into a party
When they fly alongside other birds
With the birds that love life
And build it with work
Wood burns, flour and clay
The everyday becomes magical
Becomes magical
