De Mi Madre

(Zamba)

I will return; I will return:
the night dressed in blue awaits me.
And even the little stream that comes down from the hill,
will bring memories of my youth.

I will return; I will return
to where my mother is waiting for me.
Once again in her arms to be a child again;
to live as one only lives once.

Orange blossom of white jasmines,
that scent the patio of the old garden.
A moon kiss awaits me in the valleys:
my ranch, my mother, all my feelings.

I will return; I will return
down that path that took me away yesterday,
to the direction of the bird that returns to its nest,
seeking relief for its pain.

I will return, I will return
and far away the night echoes my voice.
The voice of a love that is felt from afar
and calls the absent one from its heart.

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orange blossom: flower of the orange tree, lemon tree, and citron tree used in medicine and perfumery