A Las Madres de Mayo
Ismael Serrano
To the Mothers of May
Mother, he searches for you while his body is rocked
by the sea in which he falls asleep.
He dreams of your embrace, seeks memories,
to hold onto so as not to fall asleep.
The sea becomes restless, it's a storm, a lament.
Who could throw a thousand angels from the sky?
And hears your cries, white handkerchiefs,
cover its waters, brought by the wind.
Send a wave to take away
the traitors who sowed so much death.
Ships and shipwrecks hear their voices.
They say 'Never, never, forget our names'.
Tell the mothers that somewhere,
where it is needed, we continue to fight.
Mother, your son has not disappeared.
Mother, I found him walking with you.
I see him in your eyes, I hear him in your mouth,
and in every gesture of yours he names me.
I see him in my struggles and he accompanies me
among the flames of each new battle.
His strong hands guide my hands,
towards the future, always towards victory.
His strong hands guide my hands,
towards the future, always towards victory.
