Internal where the college student
Asked the priest who was one city
All dark, where nothing is heard
On Sundays, many people going there
And other, white, buildings; are guards
In November flowers is full
And candles adorned the streets fine
What city is this, he asks me
That attracts me with his nocturnal mysteries
The priest looks at me seriously and finally says
Ali lived kings and queens of finados empires
Rich, poor, children, all who sleep, finally
Those white walls, son, are the walls of the cemetery
« return.