La Casa de Mi Madre

My mother's house
Smells like geranium breezes
Strolling in the courtyard
Sneakily the years go by
And a song
Inhabits her silences

My mother's house
Holds spaces of nostalgia
Playing in its corners
Our childhood has remained
And that illusion
Inhabits her silences

And today I return to find myself
On the path of the old vacant lot
The path has returned me to my mother
And to her hands of moon and quince

And today I return to find myself
In the sky, the night, and the river
The path has brought me back to my courtyard
And to its scent of leather and cricket

My mother's house
Are the days unfolding
Drinking mate in the winters
In the shade of the orange tree
And that color
Inhabits her silences

My mother is a rain
Watering in February
Healing my wounds
With little mint teas
And that flavor
Inhabits my silences

And today I return to find myself
On the path of the old vacant lot
The path has returned me to my mother
And to her hands of moon and quince

And today I return to find myself
In the sky, the night, and the river
The path has brought me back to my courtyard
And to its scent of leather and cricket