Niño Rhupa

The siesta has turned blonde,
the sun is gilding it,
and with its breath it has gilded,
the cornfield spikes.

Don't go out, son, to the road,
next to the thornbush,
the Pomberito awaits you,
and will take you to the mountain.

Sleep while I watch over,
that no one disturbs your peace,
and may the child Jesus come
to play with you in your dream.

In the mountain the dove is,
singing a lullaby for you,
and the wind has silenced its voice,
so you can sleep, my child,
and dream with me.

Sleep, sleep, now.

Sleep, sleep, now.

Sleep, sleep, now.