This white hair my mother told me,
it is already beginning to be noticed,
This white hair is product without a doubt,
from so much pain ...
and to think that one day in his tender years,
with these old arms I knew how to coo,
to have them in my arms was my illusion,
giving me sorrows, giving me joys and sometimes pain,
although the pace carries its tireless march,
I still love you with the same love,
these old arms that I have do not work,
They are very tired I feel them and they look,
they spent the years leaving their mark,
this sad footprint that is now my old
I already spend my life taking care of my children,
Today, I feel happy,
God gave me permission to be gathered today,
I want to ask you,
that tomorrow, when my death arrives,
in their prayers they remember me.
these old arms that I have do not work,
They are very tired I feel them and they look,
they spent the years leaving their mark,
this sad footprint that is now my old
Only among all we can make this a better place :)