Papá Baltasar

Sleep my child Pedro
who is about to arrive,
wrapped in cloud and sky,
Papa Balthasar.
Fill his white saddlebag
with a hundred rattles,
with a drum
and a long-stringed spinning top
and a freight train
and a wagon.
Sleep, my boy Pedro
who is about to arrive,
on his camel's back
Papa Balthasar.

An angel was born in the East,
his hair the color of tea,
accompanied by two doves
and a little donkey from Bethlehem.
Three kings seek his cradle
behind a blue star.
The mother, Mother Mary,
and the child, Baby Jesus.
Of my child, child Peter,
do not forget.
That my child is the blackest
and the poorest, Balthazar.

My Pedro wrote a letter,
Papa Balthazar.
And an angel with white wings
was able to carry it.
My child is already dreaming
with the rattle,
with the drum.
And the long-stringed spinning top
and the freight train
and the wagon.
Sleep my boy Pedro
who is about to arrive,
wrapped in cloud and sky,
Father Balthasar.

He wants a new soldier
and a sword and a rifle,
and to go up to heaven
a little candle balloon.
He wants a white clown,
also a railroad.
And a long-haired bear
and a kitten made of sawdust.
From my boy, Pedro boy,
don't forget.
That my child is the blackest
and the poorest, Balthazar.