In the fading light of the Andalusian dusk,
Shadows dance in the whispering breeze,
Echoes of ancient stories untold,
Where the Spanish death quietly breathes.

Beneath the olive trees, secrets lie,
Forgotten songs of sorrow and grace,
A tapestry woven with threads of time,
In the heart of this sacred place.

The gentle touch of the evening mist,
Caresses the land with a mournful sigh,
As the stars awaken in the velvet sky,
Bearing witness to the souls that fly.

In silence, the past and present converge,
A dance of life and death entwined,
In the echoes of the Spanish night,
Where history and memory bind.