In the valleys where shadows dance,
Beneath the sky, a somber glance,
The Spanish death, a whispered tale,
Of souls adrift on a mournful gale.

The streets once vibrant, now hold their breath,
Echoes linger of Spanish death,
In every corner, the silence grows,
A haunting chill the night bestows.

Through ancient stones and timeless streets,
The past and present silently meet,
In whispered winds, the stories tell,
Of love and loss, where shadows dwell.

Yet in the darkness, hope is sown,
A flicker of life, seeds gently blown,
For even in the grip of death’s embrace,
The spirit of Spain finds its place.