Abuelita, Qué Hora Son

The dear old lady spent the whole day
Thoughtful and silent lying on the couch
White face, hair and the robe that dressed her
It resembled a sculpture placed in melancholy
From a corner of the dining room

His three laughing grandchildren, three happy little angels
Little angels with faces more splendid than the Sun
They only surrounded her with infinite pleasures
When around her chair they stunned her with their screams:
Granny, what time is it?

Every morning after school
When the rhythmic beat was heard from the clock
The beautiful little grandchildren with their gazelle gait
He approached and suddenly they asked the grandmother:
Granny, what time is it?

And in the afternoon and at night always the same movement
The grandmother always made the same noise around
And the good old lady did not hide her happiness
Every time the three children repeated in accent
Granny, what time is it?

Today I saw the three children with mourning in their dress
They indulged in their games in the same dining room
And they played that repeated game as before
And they sang as then, but my ear did not hear:
Granny, what time is it?

And suddenly the eldest of the brothers turned away
Approach the little corner of the dark dining room
And looking at it so empty, so equal to the arcana
At the clock he raised his eyes and joining his two hands
He sobbed next to the couch