Short song of your death
Your mother embroiders
in Om street.
Your mother embroiders,
embroiders light.
Your mother sings
a song,
the old sad story
of a great love.
The rain told her
of your death;
the rain told her
how you died alone.
Cold dawns turn
all memory grey.
Your mother is crying
in Om street.
Writer/s: Salvador Espriu, Raimon