A PLASTIC GARDEN

In August, in that plastic garden,
among artificial flowers, the dead rest.
In the cemetery, where every day there is a burial.
Frantic activity in one of Madrid's many cemeteries.
Where a few of us visit the remains of those who lived.
While life goes on and the time will come,
we will rest in peace.
In the summer,
while Spain burns,
while everything goes to the precipice,
while life trembles outside the tombs.
Among substitute flowers, life flickers and wakes up,
bees looking for the nectar of life in plastic flowers.
Life is a plastic garden in the holy ground,
among insects and birds life flies,
in the necropolis there is peace,
beauty in everything,
just look,
and you will see,
life.

https://soundcloud.com/carlos-863906007/despacito