Cradle Song (Canción de cuna)

Reverend mother, Sor Juana...

When you want, Sor Juana.

To our beloved mother, on the day of her patron saint...

reverenda mother, on such a happy day to congratulate her daughters...

we are smiling, that under your guidance we seek from heaven the path...

hidden. On one side the roses, on the other the thorns...

and on the top of the mountain, Jesus and Mary.

I ask Jesus for 100 years of life and his sweet mother, 100 years of happiness.

And so that I may enjoy them in holy joy that my dear mother deserves so well.

They laugh.

They are beautiful. -The joys of the Virgin of Carmen appear.

Go, go, do not get upset.

Very beautiful verses, I did not know we had a poet.

You will put them on paper for me to read more carefully.

They are already in place, reverend mother, if she serves to accept them.

Jesus, what good writings come.

And what border, do you also know how to paint? No, no, not that...

it has been copied by Sr. María Jesús, the border has been painted by Sr. Marcela...

sor Sagrario has made the ties.

And I did not know anything.

We had permission from Mother Ana of San Francisco...

he gave us the ribbon and the parchment. Very beautiful...

so the master of novices knows how to keep it secret too.

The Virgin Mary.

Without sin conceived.

What is offered, brother? -I have a gift for the prioress...

on behalf of the mayor, for the "monastic" -Onomastics, donkey.

Yes that, and that has told me that the gift is called Gayarre, goodbye.

Did they hear your obeisances, yesterday ring the bells of the church?

No. For the peal was by order of the mayor.

Since he has the frying pan by the handle that man has been unleashed.

The very heretic sent them to turn around in memory of the Republic.

Jesus, Jesus!, and the parish priest has consented. -Other than that...

Do you know what he has had the courage to say to our chaplain?

Because he is much more liberal than the mayor and that day...

thought he sings the preface with the music of Riego in the main mass.

Street, sister, do not say heresies. Those are slanders. -Not...

that Don Calixto has told me.

By the way, that to the white chasuble you have to put the strip of the center.

Again? -Other time, because it's a mess.

Don Calixto is a saint.

Precisely because of that, as he is so holy and so fervent...

he dies the silk with blows of the chest.

By the way, this is a gift from the mayor, his name is Gayarre.

Oh, look!

It would be good if they sent us a silent canary.

The Virgin Mary.

Without sin, etc, etc...

Good morning sister.

Good morning, Don José.

Of mint?

That is something that only the Lord knows.

But from "the rheumatism", servant is worse.

So strawberry and mint.

Good mix of flavors.

Well, that's his rheumatism, with all my respects they are his figurations.

Yes, yes, but I have one day today...

if I told him. Do not tell me, that it hurts me.

Oh, do not forget to congratulate Mother Teresa, who is your saint today.

Ah, yes, hey, that's why he gave us a little snack...

what do you think?

Let's see, and what's the matter with Benjamina? She's very worried...

sleep in the choir, sighs for no reason, cries without foundation...

and you do not want to eat more than salad. Grave affair.

How old are we? 18. How many of us in this holy house?

One, good one and a half.

To see that little face, of course, pale but turned...

the Lord has not had bad taste, no. Don José.

So, melancholy, sighs at the wrong time, reluctance.

Gymnastics. Gymnastics?

Gymnastics, yes.

Swedish gymnastics, push-ups, one, two, one, two, ah, cross arms.

As far as I know, gymnastics is not sinful...

and for her it will be a good medicine, every day...

cold bath and then Norwegian gymnastics...

Swedish... Either that or write to the dads of this creature...

to be taken home and look for a good boyfriend.

You can retreat and put on the right the

toques that look like they are going to fly.

And you, who preach marriage so much, why do not you marry?

I leave the newspaper, it seems that the government of Cánovas wobbles...

and that the tie at 5 with that of Sagasta is falling.

Well I do not marry because I've already been many years...

and makes some that I'm not melancholic.

Also in this world, with whom can one fall into temptations...

of marriage if all the pretty girls are here?

Don José, I'm going to have to get angry.

They say that the swallows every year, cross the sea...

and no one knows where. Who was a bird. Yes.

Sister, let's think that what they want is to fly out of here.

Suppose they had wings, where would they like to go?

I, at the end of the world. I, to the Holy Land, to see the ordeal.

I would go to the portal of Bethlehem and the garden of the house of Nazareth.

Like I was going to have a garden there.

Yes, with a stream and a rosemary hedge, the carol says so.

The Virgin washes diapers and tends them in rosemary...

and the little angels sing and the water laughs.

Tosa.

Again.

Aspire.

Deeper.

Cover yourself.

Oh, the weakest thing in this convent, it continues to be his heart.

And I see that you are still struggling to enter heaven...

at the strength of calditos, you are killing yourself with so much fasting...

and that is not good either in the century, or in the convent.

I forbid him to continue with that penance, he is staying anemic.

Can I smoke? You can smoke, don José. And sit down?

I told him, he's going for a year, to go to the capital to be seen...

the specialists and not even case.

But, Don José, how do you know that I...

What a servant mortifies herself with fasting.

Do not say that or joke. I speak very seriously.

Or eat me as mandated by the holy biology...

or the next time I talk man to man with...

the bishop, I give her as a suicidal nun.

It's bad?

Very serious?

I'm afraid so, mother.

My sister's husband, Bernabé, is a miner...

work in Centenillo's lead mines. Ah!

And the engineers are English.

Well, in my town, there lived a woman who was born in Ireland...

she had red hair and her face with freckles, they told her the red one.

I knew some prettier songs.

Especially a lullaby, which she sang in a very rare language.

And since I liked it a lot but I did not understand it, well...

I invented the words in our language and sang them...

with the thought. I also have a married sister...

has a child, brought him once to the convent. I when...

No, nothing. What was I going to say?

No, nothing.

It is a very personal feeling.

Go, tell us that feeling, which almost, almost, smells like sin.

Well, the thing is that, I, whenever I

communicate, it seems to me that I receive...

to the Lord as a child. In a child's figure?

Follow.

Yes, of a very small child and so I press against the heart...

and because he is so small and helpless he can not deny me anything he asks of him.

Did you talk about such imaginations with the confessor?

Y?

Y?

Don Calixto says that such imaginations are... De monjita.

Sister Marcela, come with me.

Regañina, "habemus".

Come on, Gayarre, come out, come on, you're free.

Flying.

Canaries as they are born in the cage do not want freedom.

They like to be imprisoned, like the nuns.

True?

Well you do very badly, son, because God made the air for the wings...

and the wings to fly.

And if he were happy like that, jumping between two canes...

and a leaf of lettuce? Let's hope he does not give it too by fasting.

Anyway.

Have.

And congratulations, mother.

So heretical that he is and remembers the saint of the day.

Of the saint no, of the saint, I had him ask Barcelona.

"The dialogs", by Juan Luis Vives. And in Latin.

And tell me, what gives you such admiration of him?

Juan Luis Vives felt perhaps like nobody...

the eternal poetry of the small and the everyday.

Is not it beautiful, Don José, to look at the stream...

and smell a bouquet of thyme, and watch the sunrise...

when the world seems like freshly bathed and there is a transparency...

in heaven that they will not have the rest of the day?

The beauty of the vulgar, the harmony of the ephemeral, perhaps...

the most real pictures of this life.

Knowing how to look is knowing how to love, right?

Making the cell visit and arriving at that of Sister Marcela...

I found between the boards of the platform, hiding something...

that should never be in the hands of a religious...

object that is in itself, root of perdition and origin of slips.

What object is that?

A piece of mirror.

What does that say, Sister Marcela? What is it for?

Maybe to look at yourself and recreate your beauty, offending the Lord.

No.O to preen and rehearse grimaces and looks. No, no.

They already know his obeisances that he served sometimes...

and does not know why, has temptations of melancholy.

Already.

And when the servant is too squeezed by these temptations...

they give you ideas of climbing trees and climbing the walls

and to jump the walls of the garden and jump into the pond.

How do you know, Reverend Mother?

And as a servant, she understands that they are not well in a religious...

Extravagances.

Thank you.

Well then, take a ray of sunlight with the mirror...

and he walks through the branches and through the roof of the cell...

and between the trees or the walls of the parlor.

And with that he consoles himself, thinking that he is a butterfly...

or a bird that goes where the thought seems to him.

All right.

Well, because of that fault, although it's not serious, it's...

In short, let's say it is not the most appropriate in our institution...

I give you as a penance that I pray for 3 times the Psalm "Quandilecta".

Oh, one last thing, Sister Marcela, cut more hair. Yes, mother.