In the heart of a shadowed night,
Where whispers of the past entwine,
The Spanish death dances light,
In the moon’s gentle, solemn shine.

Ghostly echoes fill the air,
With tales of love and lost despair,
Beneath the stars, they softly tread,
In silent steps, the path of dead.

A serenade of fleeting dreams,
Where time and sorrow intertwine,
In haunting rhythm, softly sings,
The Spanish death, a mournful line.

Yet in this dance of shadowed grace,
Lives a beauty, fierce and bright,
A fleeting glimpse of time’s embrace,
In the stillness of the night.