My dear Spain.
This Spain of mine,
this Spain of ours.
From your holy nap
now they wake you up
verses of poets.
br/>Where are your eyes?
Where are your hands?
Where are your head?
My dear Spain.
This My Spain,
this Spain of ours.
My dear Spain.
This Spain of mine,
this Spain of ours.
Of the still plows,
Of the black bandages
On open flesh
Who starved you?
Who drank your blood
when you were dry?
My dear Spain.
This Spain of mine,
this Spain of ours.
My dear Spain.
This Spain mine,
this Spain of ours.
People of words
and of bitter skin.
Sweet your promise,
I want to be your land,
I want be your grass
when I die
My dear Spain.
This Spain of mine,
this Spain of ours.
My dear Spain .
This Spain of mine,
this Spain of ours.

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN