Te Recuerdo Madre Poem by Samuel Santana
Te Recuerdo Madre
Mi anciana madre,
tan dulce y tierna como el pétalo
de una flor, trabajaba y cuidada
su familia al compás del reloj,
sin descanso y sin queja.
Por la mañana cantaba mientras
miraba la aurora y cuando
alimentaba las gallinas,
atenta siempre al mundo
de nuestra esperanza.
Aunque en su rostro estaba el
agudo sufrimiento,
la angustia y muchas noches
de desvelo, sus pies forjaron
con valor artesano el sendero
de la felicidad.
Cuando sacudía el trigo,
agotada de sudor, pensaba en
las flores sin agua y en el polvo
intruso de las ventanas.
Pero la fragilidad de mi existencia
se sostuvo anclada en la
inconmovible firmeza de sus ojos.
Así fue siempre hasta el último día.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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3/11/2026 11:55:15 PM # 1.0.0
According to Google Translate: I Remember You Mother - Poem by Samuel Santana My elderly mother, As sweet and tender as the petal Of a flower, worked and cared for His family to the beat of the clock, Without rest and without complaint. In the morning she sang while I looked at the dawn and when Fed the chickens, Always attentive to the world Of our hope. Although on his face was the Acute suffering, Anguish and many nights Of sleeplessness, his feet forged With artisan value the path of happiness. When he shook the wheat, Tired of sweat, I thought of Flowers without water and in the dust Intruder of the windows. But the fragility of my existence Was anchored in the Unshaken firmness of his eyes. So it was always until the last day. But I would make these changes: I Remember You Mother - Poem by Samuel Santana My elderly mother, As sweet and tender as the petal Of a flower, worked and cared for Her family to the beat of the clock, Without rest and without complaint. In the morning she sang while she looked at the dawn and when she fed the chickens, Always attentive to the world Of our hope. Although on her face was Acute suffering, Anguish and many nights Of sleeplessness, her feet forged With artisan value the path of happiness. When she shook the wheat, Exhausted with sweat, I thought of Flowers without water and of the intrusive dust in the windows. But the fragility of my existence Was anchored in the Unshaken firmness of her eyes. So it was always until the last day.