CANASTOS DE TERNURA
En tus canastos de ternura me
recuesto, madre,
y me siento dueña del mundo;
no tengo frío, nada me da miedo.
En tus largos cabellos de
caricias
colmas mi sed de ser amada
Me aprietas contra tu pecho,
Es tu regazo mi serena morada;
tus latidos caminan con mis latidos
en una sola aorta de amor.
Madre, agosto no te quebró los
huesos,
en esa tumba fría.
en esa tumba fría.
Tus pupilas de amor no murieron;
las siento en todas partes.
Todavía extraño
tus pepitas de amor en mis
senderos,
las hogazas que me diste
nunca las pude olvidar.
¡Oh madre,
Sol de primavera en mis
puertas,
luz en mis callejones,
¿Dónde escondiste
tus ternuras de algodón?
En tu vientre maduro madre
yo sentí
las arterias vivas del amor.
Duele tu ausencia, madre,
¡Como pozo hondo lacerante!
Por aquí se extraña tus uvas suaves
de amor.
El amor de madre hijo
es una fortuna de muchos quilates.
El amor de madre hijo
es una fortuna de muchos quilates.
Autora: Edith Elvira Colqui
Rojas-Perú-Derechos reservados
BASKET TERNURA
In your baskets of tenderness I lie down, mother,
and I feel the owner of the world;
I'm not cold, nothing scares me.
In your long caressing hair
you fill my thirst to be loved
You press me against your chest
Your lap is my serene abode;
Your beats walk with my beats in a single aorta of love.
Mother, April didn't break your bones.
In that cold grave.
Your love roses did not die;
I feel them everywhere.
I still miss
your love nuggets in my ways
the breads you gave me
I could never forget them.
Oh Mother!
Spring sun at my doors
light in my alleys
Where did you hide
your cotton tenderness?
In your belly mature mother
I felt
The living arteries of love.
Your absence hurts, mother,
Like a deep and lacerating hole!
Its soft love grapes are missed here.
Mother son love
It is a fortune of many carats.
Author: Edith Elvira Colqui Rojas-Peru-All rights reserved
In your baskets of tenderness I lie down, mother,
and I feel the owner of the world;
I'm not cold, nothing scares me.
In your long caressing hair
you fill my thirst to be loved
You press me against your chest
Your lap is my serene abode;
Your beats walk with my beats in a single aorta of love.
Mother, April didn't break your bones.
In that cold grave.
Your love roses did not die;
I feel them everywhere.
I still miss
your love nuggets in my ways
the breads you gave me
I could never forget them.
Oh Mother!
Spring sun at my doors
light in my alleys
Where did you hide
your cotton tenderness?
In your belly mature mother
I felt
The living arteries of love.
Your absence hurts, mother,
Like a deep and lacerating hole!
Its soft love grapes are missed here.
Mother son love
It is a fortune of many carats.
Author: Edith Elvira Colqui Rojas-Peru-All rights reserved
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