Rosaura

Country Music
The land calls and in its calling
The blood of the one who left boils
He left behind parents and siblings
Two young children and a woman

He left looking for money and work
Because his land no longer provides
And yet the furrow, shouting
Awaits his rough hands

And Rosaura, excited
In a letter she will have to tell
That the youngest, who used to crawl
Is now running across the yard
And the seeds they had sown
Are ready to harvest
And if luck is on their side
Perhaps life will change

And Rosaura is mother and father to her little ones
And Rosaura is alone, no owner

She also tells him with dismay
That when the evening comes
She feels a distress in her chest
As she doubts he will return

The dawn has a new star
That will illuminate the open furrow
Soft hands, small hands
That will bring forth the harvest!