Songs

A young woman rocks her child.
She is alone, she weeps, but she sings,
For he must hear her song,
Sweet and tender, if he is to fall asleep.

‘Christmas has come, blue little child.
The bells will ring
To fill you with joy.’

The man she loves has left . . .
And the song ceases!
She says:
‘Where is he at this hour?
Can he hear my voice?
And does he know that I live?’

She weeps so simply
That it hurts the heart.
She looks at her son
And tries to see if he resembles
The man she waits for unremittingly,
With all her heart, with all her tenderness!

She weeps but she hopes!
She hears Victory in the distance,
She imagines the merciless struggle,
But she believes in Justice,
She knows that an entire life was sacrificed,
Joyous and proud, and she waits.
By the side of this tiny cradle
That holds the heart of a man.