La Cuna de Tu Hijo

Make with your own hands
The cradle of your child,
Let your woman see
Cutting the paradise
To hang from the ceiling
As in the bygone days
That will return one day
Make it as I tell you.

You will work at night,
Let your hammer be heard,
He is making the cradle,
Let your neighbor say,
Sometimes the blood
Will stain your ring,
Let your woman wipe it
Let her stain her dress.

The nights will be white
Of swaying pine,
You will make according to the tree
The cradle of your child,
So that he may have the dream
In its nest hollow,
So that he may have the angel
In a hidden cricket.

The work will be yours,
You will see that it is not the same,
It will be like your arms
The cradle of your child,
It will sway with the air
You will remember the pine,
You will say sleep in my cradle
You will see that it is not the same.

The nights will be white
Of swaying pine,
You will make according to the tree
The cradle of your child
So that he may have the dream
In its nest hollow,
So that he may have the angel
In a hidden cricket.