Hey sad, lonely Matador
If your courtyard is empty
The soil of world, but saturates
With the corpses.
The Fertile soil
Powers the plants
To sprout again
Are you alone?
Are you longing to those days
The days when life was flowing in every corner of your courtyard?
Do you miss the pulse of life in the veins of your being?
Where are really the scent of youth buds?
Where is the sweet temptation of the orange grove?
Where are those young hands secretly picking oranges?
Matador come let’s go back to the life
I want to replace the dried flowers in my vase with orange blossoms.