Immigrant Son
by Estanislau Gubiotti

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I am an immigrant son

finding my way so far from home.

Without a friend to call my own -

I am free - but I feel alone.

All our belongings left behind

where is the joy we came to find?

What is a boy supposed to do?

waiting for morning to break through.


I am an immigrant son

striving to live a better life.

Still there is sadness in my heart

for those I love and left behind.


I am an immigrant son

learning a language not my own,

finding it hard to understand and be understood.

Each day my parents work so hard,

giving me everything they have;

teaching me honour and respect.

Someday my children will believe

it is a treasure to be free.




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