White Path

White Path. I STEP. White path where the scents to jasmin, pine scent to field. Scent to brave cow and bulls in freedom. In this childhood of two coasts two seas and a single earth. Scent to Seas union and armonion and far Africa. Skies high blue celestial and white clouds cotton. And to far from the long white path.

To the horizon white small houses in the mount of the coal. Of the coal mountain range. Shorefront oftentimes addresses this issue. Field of Gibraltar my field. Horses ride free in by the reddish mud. Where until the dust that rises it smells well. There are no dark nights where the stars to millares shine. Stars that yaw to the bulls that rest in the pine.

And my house of great and painted walls with white lime. The wings of my imagination you fly when watching after the great large window. Of the harmonic life of its noble people. Where invier to us they are of together warm colds to the brazier. Together all we took coffee with bread from field and inlays of the mountain range of the coal. Coal mountain range of the Field of Gibraltar. Sardines hoes and squid roast clams big holes red prawns manjares of both seas. Together in hermanad we sang to the life and its people. Together to the blind cows of badness. White path the one takes that us to the hope. Oh, seas of every day mountain range of the coal. Coal mountain range of the field of Gibraltar my field. Town of the rock, San Roque Cadiz that saw me be born. Of morisco and the pirate who no longer walks nor it sails.