Madre de Leo
Remember, Leo?
Madre de Leo
No, I mean the poem I wrote about the village: Beautiful is the morning, Leo, The sunlight sparkles, The flowers offer their perfumes, The orchard is rustling, From branch to branch, without stopping, The joyous birdies flutter and sing, And their chirping enchants me, You can hear the soft bleating, Of flocks of sheep, That stand out against the pasture, Like snowflakes, Here stands a small hut, Home for shepherds, There a white cottage, Whiter than a lily, Afterwards we come to a farm, Next to the farm, there's a garden, Next to the garden, a house, And next to the house, a church, The hill is covered with oaks, The valley with fruit, And the river with many trees...