down the street into the square?
How the women selling rosemary
pressed the branches to your chest,
promised luck and all the rest,
Put their fingers in your hair
I had met you just the day before
How I wanted to break into that room
but all that would have to wait.
In the caravan of martyrs,
with the statues in the courtyard,
whose heads and hands were taken
in the burden of the sun.
with a question in my footsteps,
I was going up the hillside
and the journey just begun
My sister says she never dreams at night
There are days when I know why
Those possibilities within her sight
With no way of coming true,
cause some things just don't get through
into this world, although they try.
In the carmen of the martyrs,
the statues in the courtyard,
whose heads and hands were taken
in the burden of the sun.
with a question in my footsteps.
And all I ask is you remember me you
