Me ru Con
A mother sits on a slow swinging hammock,
She is singing her baby to sleep.
She wishes for the rain to fall
>From the clouds floating by.
The rain would water the rice crops and make them sprout.
Sadly she reflects on the state of her country.
In her heart is sorrow,
For her country is being destroyed.
Every day she sings to her child;
Every day her child is growing older.
She feels her child has a sad future.
Uncertain, like a river that is flowing to the vast unknown sea.
Her voice, a high wave of sound
Is carried by the air.
It shrouds the heart of those that hear it!
"This lullaby is the first lesson my baby shall have,
Teaching with the language of his country.
One day he will grow and leave me;
He will leave me to join in the fight
Against those who destroy our country."
She sits like a sad statue,
She wonders about her destiny,
And the destruction of her country.
Her baby is tender and innocent.
Why should he have to grow up
In a world of conflict,
A world in which he can never be free.
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