Un poema
El Paseo
Time follows time,
Youth yields to age.
The child now kicking a ball in the shadow of the old stone church,
will grow up to be the lover linked with his amor.
The lover will one day marry in the very church that was his playground
and pass his way into the square under a shower of petals.
As time marches on, he will stroll nightly with his wife until long after their hair is greyed by the passing of time.
One day, his wife will walk without him,
all dressed in black.
It will be the arm of her life long friend that will support her,
until she can once again stroll with her love.
This same street shall see all these phases of life,
and mark their passing in its centuries worn stones.
It will watch their children and their descendents,
until its ancient rock has been turned to sand.
This is the rhythm and the life of the paseo,
which is the heartbeat of Segovia.
Time follows time,
Youth yields to age.
The child now kicking a ball in the shadow of the old stone church,
will grow up to be the lover linked with his amor.
The lover will one day marry in the very church that was his playground
and pass his way into the square under a shower of petals.
As time marches on, he will stroll nightly with his wife until long after their hair is greyed by the passing of time.
One day, his wife will walk without him,
all dressed in black.
It will be the arm of her life long friend that will support her,
until she can once again stroll with her love.
This same street shall see all these phases of life,
and mark their passing in its centuries worn stones.
It will watch their children and their descendents,
until its ancient rock has been turned to sand.
This is the rhythm and the life of the paseo,
which is the heartbeat of Segovia.