I'm alone.
The ashes of a flower
lay in the cup.
Filled with a glittering black,
in the Manzanares travels
a word that survives...
What was on your part
on each side
of the shore goes by,
sealed to another image.
I'm alone.
The ashes of a flower
lay in the cup.
Filled with a glittering black,
in the Manzanares travels
a word that survives...
What was on your part
on each side
of the shore goes by,
sealed to another image.