Canción De Cuna

«In the morning dew, at noon heat, in the afternoon the mosquitoes: I don't want to be a farmer.» And I who fell asleep in your arms with my mouth against your chest. The love of a man had united us before the winter morning I was born. The wind cannot take away the memory of that time when you gave up your bread to give me butter. «In the morning dew, at noon heat, in the afternoon the mosquitoes: I don't want to be a farmer.» Lullaby that already spoke to me of my grandfather who sleeps at the bottom of a ravine, of a dusty road, of a white cemetery, and of vineyards, wheat fields, and olive groves. Of a virgin on a hill, of roads and shortcuts, of all your brothers who died in the war. «In the morning dew, at noon heat, in the afternoon the mosquitoes: I don't want to be a farmer.» You are the daughter of the dry wind and a barren land. Of a land you have never been able to forget despite the long journey your blood brothers forced you to walk, your language brothers, and you still want to die listening to alionines¹ covered in the dust of that poor land. «In the morning dew...»

¹Alionines - type of bird