A Spanish rose,
plucked from her garden,
move from mountain
to ocean to sea
seeking shelter
she came upon my doorstep
and here’s what she said to me:
“Solo en cada país,
canta la misma cancíon,
trabajo por día,
grito por noche.
Oaio.”
She told a tale
of love requited
a rose’s season
to open full bloom.
but seasons change
to leave the broken hearted
alone, with her love
gone too soon, singing:
“solo en cada país,
canta la misma cancíon:
trabajo por día,
grito por noche.
Oaio.”
