Mi hija hermosa (English)


My daughter is beautiful, they say.
And I know I have a daughter who is beautiful.
It was born straight from my uterus to the hands of the doctor, sitting, serious face,
Eyes infinitely almond and open,
Not a tear, I looked at it and two things I felt
God, she is beautiful, and nothing, nothing resembles me.

And since it was the first one, it cost me that blow
Of not seeing my essence prolonged in her.
But there was something I already had in those eyes.
It was the look. There was no fear, only surprise.
If you want to some trouble to have disturbed her
Of the comfort in which it is.
It was a courageous look, a look that already
In the second independent life he could express what he felt.
And then I recognized in my almond gaze my courage.

The babies you know are not generally pretty,
But she was born beautiful,
The months passed and they did nothing but accentuate that beauty
That he did not inherit from me.
And I was ecstatic looking at her and slow to convince me
That it was blood of my blood.

He seemed not to need too much in his development,
And the scheduled stages, the food, the crawling, walking, speaking,
Everything was done before the stipulated.
And one day almost without waiting for it until clinging to my legs
When I’m on my back,
As if ten months left him guys
And discovering the world became urgent.
And that’s when I became aware that besides being beautiful,
He had been given the virtue of intelligence.

I portrayed her beauty at every stage I could,
Like trying to capture her in that way
And in that instant forever.
I learned from her intelligence how to educate her,
Well, it was she who guided us in ignorance
Within our desire for limits and
Your willingness to accept them;
It was she who placated our fears to innumerable dangers
To those who could supposedly be exposed,
Showing us which one he would never really expose himself to,
Because she and only she knew for herself what should and should be.

We should surrender to his persistence and accept,
And as expected, he was right.
It was never lost, never a blow,
Never a point for injury, he grew unscathed
When in those years we all went through a blow, a stitch or a plaster.
Beautiful, as if nothing, nothing should harm her because it should be so.

He grew free to whatever activity he wanted,
The away from any fear of any,
Teaching you the wonder of riding, skating, swimming,
The bicycle, and what she later longed to do.
Fear for her was not a rational word.
Meanwhile my bones grew old and broke,
Not to transmit fear, but the audacity to insist.

I have a daughter that over the years becomes more beautiful,
We have become used to it,
Actually its beauty is even more noticeable
As we get older, but now have other beauties,
And I would like to bequeath over the years the best of the beauties, the beauty of the soul.
That, whenever I allow it,
Well, it seems to be slowly acquiring it as everything,
Following his own path, he is achieving it.

We want to bequeath to our children,
Regardless of our own stories,
Values, principles, ideals, dreams, ethics,
Love of neighbor, respect for their elders.
We want to let them make their own decisions, we want, we want, …
Sometimes we want so much of them.

I have a beautiful daughter who seems to float in life
Ignoring the effect that its beauty causes.
It is not boastful but humble in its aspect.
He has the innate gift of leadership,
And I think he has not yet realized the capital that this will represent in his future.
He does not know seduction as a weapon, only his reasoning guides it.
And then it is in those moments where I realize that
Whoever wants it and whatever it is called, gave the gift of beauty to the right person.
I know that she will soften her character over the years
Well inevitably at some point
Life will put a mirror in front of you and show you “look girl,
How lucky you were, you were born with a bonus! ………… ..
Give back to life what life has given you