Forged, in the foothills of the Pyrenees
On olive and spring fields, His shadow splays
Bearing love and fanciful tyrannies
Under the anxious pulse of the summer rays
He kindles emerald and gold meadows
Castles and cathedrals bake in the haze
Castanets cackle to autumn’s bellows
Groom the bulls! Ready the clergy! He shouts
A march paced by the past and its echoes
Soon winter shade will hide the whereabouts
As a man wafts responsibilities
Trials, tribulations frozen throughout
Offer insight to possibilities
Forged, in the foothills of the Pyrenees
