MI MADRE QUE ESTÁ EN EL CIELO (Jotabea con estrambote)

El lino de mi madre, dormita delicado,
agosto en sus bolsillos, su sol a cercenado.

La reina de las flores, mi Atenea, no vive,
su aliento perfumado, lánguido se percibe,
su mirada serena, flemática, pervive;
mayo con sus lámparas, me indica su declive.

¡Ay, madre santa augusta!, del tu Olimpo bajaras;
y en tus voces de amor, nuevamente me hablaras.


Mucho tiempo en la tierra, llorosa he degustado
el látigo inclemente del dolor que revive,
¡Ay, mi madre entrañable!,  ¡Si por aquí pasaras!

¡Oh, si te levantaras!
El mundo de color se pintaría
un cielo de arrebol quizás sería.


Autora: Edith Elvira Colqui Rojas-Perú Derechos reservados



MY MOTHER WHO IS IN HEAVEN (Jotabea with estrambote)

My mother's bedding sleeps delicately
August in your pockets, your sun has been cut.

The queen of flowers, my Athena, does not live.
his scented and languid breath is perceived,
his serene and phlegmatic gaze survives;
May with its lamps, indicates its decline.

Oh, holy august mother! You will come down from your Olympus;
and in your voices of love, you will speak to me again.


Long time on earth, tearful, I've tried
the relentless whip of pain to revive,
Oh my dear mother! If you were here!

How easy is it!
The world of color would be painted
if you were still here holy mother


Author: Edith Elvira Colqui Rojas-Perú Rights reserved