Life is a morning of any day, when I picked you up,
a black hood, loose jeans, a faded wall.
Life is a class of philology, where we waved the tomorrow,
a red sun gets in the assembly, dirty notes, golden hairs.
Life is a Thursday finishing in your students flat,
four yellow candles in the kitchen, naked shadows, broken dishes.
Life is a blue sky at noon, whe we went up to the terrace,
a song by Extremo, hanging clothes, Valencia among white sheets.
Life is shutting your eyes, laughing again,
shouting to the wind, feeling ourselves free,
life is the desire of being born again,
running alone, feeling your growth,
life is the cold chapping your face
and a tear burning your checks.
Life is understanding I must learn,
learn to live without you.
Life is biting sweet fruits in the stairs of the Central Market,
going through Cavallers up to Vaidigna, smoking oblivions, singing by shouts.
Life is a collapsed house, crossing trough Torres de Serran,
"Love, humor, respect" in the facade, fire and shrapnel in our hands.
Life is taking the first tramway, from Pont de Fusta to Cabanyal,
an orange city in the windows, a world in war in the tired eyes,
Life is an abandoned ship that we found in front of the sea,
feeling like two castaway people in the beach, the last time you kissed me.
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