The wind blows through the palm trees
like someone passing by without a sound,
but leaves the trace of its presence
in the song of the birds.

The sun is already low,
and the earth, warm, breathes slowly.
Each step is a reminder
that time is a road that doesn't turn back.

Life is made of small gestures:
the worker’s embrace,
the child's smile,
the gaze of the woman who makes a home a...

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In the silence that resonates,
a lament of absences,
the flowers bloom in the shadows,
whispers of a life that fades away.

Eyes searching the horizon
for a trace of hope,
but pain, like a poem,
is sculpted in the words of the day.

The city is a labyrinth of steps
that reflects solitude at every corner -
laughter dissolves in the wind
like falling petals,
disguised in the chaos.

...

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