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My son, instead of crying be strong |
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Be brave and comfort your mother |
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Don't cry for the tears are wasted |
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Let not also the years be wasted |
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Forgive me, son, for this unjust death |
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Which takes your father from your side |
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Forgive me all who are my friends |
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I am with you, so do not cry |
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If mother wants to be distracted |
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From the sadness and the soulness |
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You take her for a walk |
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Along the quiet country |
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And rest beneath the shade of trees |
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Where here and there you gather flowers |
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Beside the music and the water |
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Is the peacefulness of nature |
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She will enjoy it very much |
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And surely you'll enjoy it too |
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But son, you must remember |
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Do not use it all yourself |
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But down yourself one little step |
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To help the weak ones by your side |
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Forgive me, son, for this unjust death |
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Which takes your father from your side |
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Forgive me all who are my friends |
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I am with you, so do not cry |
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The weaker ones that cry for help |
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The persecuted and the victim |
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They are your friends |
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And comrades in the fight |
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And yes, they sometimes fall |
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Just like your father |
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Yes, your father and Bartolo |
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They have fallen |
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And yesterday they fought and fell |
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But in the quest for joy and freedom |
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And in the struggle of this life you'll find |
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That there is love and sometimes more |
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Yes, in the struggle you will find |
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That you can love and be loved also |
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Forgive me all who are my friends |
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I am with you |
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I beg of you, do not cry |
