En Los Brazos De Mi Padre
Silvina Garre
In the Arms of My Father
Those metal stems
that support the jasmines
pendulous harlequins
that accompany the walk
that seem like a warm cradle
or combat tools
are the arms of my father
that go to work
A Tower of Babel
built by both
would be enough if it added up
their tiredness until yesterday
but like every stone
it was always taken from them
they are left only with wounds
as a cruel testimony
And there in the waist of my mother
long before I saw them
like fragrant branches
they would be lavishing me
an occasional hug
And with their silent fatigue
in a cradling hug
And pushing me the voice
And pushing me the voice
And pushing me the voice
To sing to them
If it could be explained
what bursts through their fiber
what patience keeps silent
and the tongue won't say
miracles would come down to human limits
in the fury of hands
that never stop fighting
Those metal stems
that support the jasmines
pendulous harlequins
that accompany the walk
that seem like a warm cradle
or combat tools
are the arms of my father
that go to work
And there in the waist of my mother
long before I saw them
like fragrant branches
they would be lavishing me
an occasional hug
And with their silent fatigue
in a cradling hug
And pushing me the voice
And pushing me the voice
And pushing me the voice
To sing to them
