Fríos Del Alma

The afternoon was sad,
The snow was falling,
A white shroud,
Covered the fields,
Not a bird flew,
Nor was a sound heard,
Not a bird flew,
Nor was a sound heard.

And alone in the field,
Leaving her mark,
She walked very sad,
Very pale and beautiful,
The girl who has been
The flower of the field,
The girl who has been
The flower of the field.

She carried in her belt
Her poor shoes;
Her little sister
Walking by her side
Says, 'Don't your feet
Feel the snow?'
Says, 'Don't your feet
Feel the snow?'

'My feet feel nothing'
She calmly replies,
The cold I feel
I feel in my soul;
The cold of the snow
Is not the harshest,
The cold of the snow
Is not the harshest.

And alone in the field,
Leaving her mark,
She walked very sad,
Very pale and beautiful,
The girl who has been
The flower of the field,
The girl who has been
The flower of the field.

(And the little one says
Shivering with cold:
'More cold than snow!...
What is it, sister?
There's no other
That can be said to be greater!...')

(-'That which chills
The souls to the bone;
That which in the soul
My mother placed
The day she joined me
To my husband without love'.)