T hey say to their mothers, “ Where is grain and wine?” As they faint like a wounded man In the streets of the city, As their life is poured out On their mothers’ bosom.
Dicen a sus madres: “¿Dónde hay grano y vino?” Mientras desfallecen como heridos En las calles de la ciudad, Mientras exhalan su espíritu En el regazo de sus madres.
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