IDENTIDADES 1 ENGLISH IDENTIDADES 5 ENGLISH | Page 149
People of Cuba, when was it that
Who doesn’t await, full of hope,
You saw her discreetly cross
The gift of love in her succor?
The Eastern mountain range
Who does not in her spiritual support
Where she wanted to root her saving
grace
Attain a bit of peace in his torment?
What woeful mortal has not received
On this sanctuary land
The miraculous piety of her hand?
An arc of devotion for believers?
She, mother of the poor, has been,
It was on a mountain imbued with metals,
Mother, the most loving ever,
Where the sun bathed her with its fire,
By the side of every Cuban, always.
That she chose her tutelary slopes,
Virgin that man fervently venerates,
So that from them, eternally,
And that all protect, in Cobre.
Prayers, pleading or supplications,
Her domain is spreading all over,
Could receive her omnipotent grace.
In every field healing
—They say it was thus by the grace of
Faith—
The pain of the poor,
The Sierra represented all the dogma
found within
To all you give relief, equally,
Of all of Humanity.
Swarthy, Creole Virgin, tender Indian
The Rosary’s divine mysteries,
Born in the American sea
A symbol of unction in the campaign,
Beads signified mountains,
Like a heavenly gift, to shelter and pacify
And the locket, a Sanctuary.
Afflicted existence,
Now,
A slave of life’s roads,
Who doesn’t pray to her virtue?
Of deceitful flesh!
Who doesn’t see the favor of her goodness?
Salve, Sweet Patroness, mystical talisman of the salty sea,
Who doesn’t tremble and shout when
imploring.
Who becomes the celestial Madonna
Of Cobre Mountain.
-Oh, little Virgin of Charity!
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