Como Pajaros en el aire [English translation]

Like birds in the air

The hands of my mother

are like birds in the air

Stories of cooking

between her wounded wings

of hunger

The hands of my mother

know what happens

in the mornings

When she kneads life

mud ovens

bread of hope.

The hands of my mother

come to the yard since early

Everything becomes a party

when they fly

with another birds

With the birds

that love life

and build it with the work

The wood burns, flour and mud

The daily things

become magic.

The hands of my mother

represent me an open sky

and a memory longing for

warm mops in the winters

The hands of my mother

noble, sincere, clean of all

How would be the hands

of he who moves them

thanks to hatred?

• Artist:Peteco Carabajal