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Madre MAG
What's wrong with me, Madre?
Am I not what you wanted
Or expected?
Am I too wild or too meek?
Don't you see that I cower when you speak
Of the wretch that I am
Or the beauty I could be?
I draw the curtains across the pain,
Hide my sorrow behind the rain.
Beneath the torrents I see love,
But I am fading ...
And it is fading.
I've lost again.
The great hand rises and falls once more -
Against my face,
Within my heart,
Across my life.
The rains are my tears.
Again I sing, "in altered tone,"
What's wrong with me, Madre?
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