MY POOR MOTHER
 

One day the flames of our lives will be extinguished.
Each one of us will die in their own way... in their own moment.
This is a very true and cruel reality
That will touch us some day.
 

Poor Mother, how can I look at you without feeling sad?
Like a beautiful bird fallen on the streets she resemble.
With love and sweet words she always used to sing to us.
Joyful and tender sounds, like sounds of bird's chirp.
 

 Oh! sweet and dear mother, so small, so tiny... so fragile.
As if was a bird loosing its feathers.
Time goes by...
Your life is now wasting and going away...
 

Close to my mother. Niteroi, 1986
 MARIA LUCIA DA COSTA