The sad, beautiful, pale girl. Lay your body still tired on the headstone of the beloved dead in battle. His brown eyes stare at the horizon looking for an answer or a meaning for life, the tear runs down his face and touches the stone headstone built by the friends who survived.
The field is green and it is possible to smell the flowers taking over the entire plain, her long wavy hair takes on the tale of her face, tired of crying, and she thinks about going back and living with her parents.
The land of our ancestors now no longer belongs to us, the Arabs ride and the threat of not being a single people resurfaces with them, and the warrior Visigoth rests in the history of mankind.