Era en Abril

Do you know, brother, how sad I am?
My voice has become a flight of trills and blood,
My best dream has shattered:
My child has died, my child, my child,
My child, brother.

The mouth couldn't fill with words,
Just empty the belly of my sweet love.
Enormous and blue, life was given to him.
He couldn't take it, he couldn't take it,
So small.

I had made him a white song
Of love between a cloud and a flying fish.
I dreamed of him running, wrapped in sweat,
With full cheeks, full cheeks,
Of sun and sweetness.

It was in April, the warm rhythm
Of my little one dancing
Inside the womb, a meadow in bloom.
It was his bed and the belly button, the belly button,
The belly button, the sun.

Don't look for the best way, brother,
For my soul is already silent in asking God.
What do we do now, my sweetness and I?
With breasts full, with breasts full
Of milk and pain.

We are thinking, it would be better
To march the three,
To march the three,
Than to stay just two.