in sunny madrid
i walk the streets of its lonely people
it is hot and the trees are wilting
in sunny madrid
the women are weeping
something has turned
into nothing
in sunny madrid
the bulls are running
the people are mad and laughing
hurt and yet
enjoying
in sunny madrid
life is leaving
the children are running
birds are flying away, away from
sunny madrid
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem