Cançó Per A La Meva Mestra

Time, long ago there was, you, teacher, and your world of ink and bench, chalkboard and white apron. Good morning, in the morning, you told us to stand up, between two 'photos' and a cross, a prayer and a song and a kiss on the cheek. Good morning teacher... But you never knew, teacher, that when you wanted me to sing that three times one make three my eyes honestly itched the knees that you modestly pressed and pressed but a number is not worth as much as a rosy skin... Although you made us go to church and took me to the gift shop that was a small and wonderful world, a world of colored chalks that you painted and erased... Only you surrounded by chaplains gave reason to call themselves 'children' in a world of four hands. And if you ever think of me, teacher, may from your blue eyes always arise that peace that made school a little sweeter and may not make a knot in your throat saying: 'what have they done...' 'where have they taken my handful of little ones...' because you didn't know, teacher, that the world is the same... that man is the same... and it's not the same, your scent, oh! teacher, as the street air.