Al pie de una imagen de Sta. Cecilia ~Unknown~ At the foot of an image of St. Cecilia

"Al Pie De Una Imagen De Sta. Cecilia"

Al pie de una imagen de santa Cecilia,
Un triste bohemio comenzó a tocar,
Diciendo en voz baja no tengo familia,
Ni patria ni rumbo ni hogar.

Vengo en busca tuya, lloroso y hambriento,
Para que te apiades de mi situación,
Con que tú lo ordenes en tu pensamiento,
Me abrirán las puertas en cualquier mesón.

La música aquella seduce y encanta,
De pronto un objeto calló el violín,
Era que la virgen moviendo su planta,
Al mísero artista le dio un escarpín.

Lloroso de gozo se alejo en seguida,
Y uno al ver la joya le llamo ladrón,
Y lo sentenciaron a que con su vida,
Pagara su infame y sacrílega acción.

Y por más que gritaba que él era inocente,
No, no puedo convencer al juez,
Y ante su protesta aullaba la gente,
Si se te calumnia prueba tu honradez.

Cuando de su llanto vio la ineficacia,
Y que se preparan su vida a inmolar,
Pidió le dejasen como ultima gracia,
Al pie de la imagen volver a tocar.

Toco como nunca con la frente erguida,
Mirando a la santa con mística unción,
Diciendo en voz baja defiende en mi vida,
Probando a tus fieles que no soy ladrón.

Cayó de rodilla la turba siniestra,
Cuando el sentenciado beso su violín,
Al ver que la imagen con su propia diestra,
Le daba al artista el otro escarpín.
-----------------------------------------------------
"At The Foot Of An Image Of St. Cecilia"

At the foot of an image of St Cecilia,
A sad bohemian started to play,
whispering quietly: I have no family,
neither country nor direction or home.

I come to seek your help tearful and hungry,
so you have pity of my situation,
with just your order on your mind,
they will open the doors for me at any inn.

That music seduces and enchants,
and suddenly an object fell, the violin,
it was that the virgin moving her foot,
to the miserable artist, gave him an *escarpin.

Weeping of joy then walked away,
and one, seeing the jewel, called him a thief,
and they sentenced him to pay with his life,
his infamous and sacrilegious action.

And no matter how much he screamed that he was innocent,
No, He couldn’t convince the judge,
and seeing he had protested, the people howled at him,
if you’re being slandered, prove that you are honest.

When he saw his crying was inefficient,
and they were preparing to sacrifice his life,
He requested as a last grace,
at the foot of the image, play once again.

He played like he never did before, With his head straight,
looking at the Saint with mystic unction,
whispering quietly: defend my life,
prove to your people, that I am not a thief.

The sinister crowd fell to their knees,
When the sentenced man kissed his violin,
Seeing that the image with her own right hand,
Was giving the artist the other escarpin.

*Escarpín = shoe, bootie, pointed shoe, apparently a French word also used in Spanish.

Shinigami*
~Life Isn't Set In Stone, Things Change~