It was one of those evenings when Manuela and I share confidences around a table, which you gave me the text he had written for his death. I moved to see the naturalness with which she seemed to accept that one day the chess game that had begun with her would end with his final defeat.
Today, a year ago where your ashes were downstream, as you wanted, I will explore the edge of Órbigo and read aloud again, sure that your presence in the infinite can hear and feel it as a tribute to those who knew you and you wanted to.
Again , rest in peace, Manuela.
WAY OF EPITAPH.
When you read these letters
know that I write with soul in his mouth.
The best tribute I want to ask
is wholeheartedly
Weep not my
death penalty will not last Think that
glad I am leaving because I lived a full life,
know that in every corner I
will be present in your life.
A rose, a picture, a picture you speak of me
constants.
I think my serve
words of tribute and affection.
not weep for me I implore!
I'm happy, without penalty.
Hopefully, my advice,
be happy watching my memories.
When you read these letters
know that I write with soul in his mouth.
The best tribute I want to ask
is wholeheartedly
Weep not my
death penalty will not last Think that
glad I am leaving because I lived a full life,
know that in every corner I
will be present in your life.
A rose, a picture, a picture you speak of me
constants.
I think my serve
words of tribute and affection.
not weep for me I implore!
I'm happy, without penalty.
Hopefully, my advice,
be happy watching my memories.
Plus ... I do not go at all.
will continue flying through the air,
by the sun, clouds.
At flowering roses, will you rob
and take the river ... will think
how happy I was with you.
will continue flying through the air,
by the sun, clouds.
At flowering roses, will you rob
and take the river ... will think
how happy I was with you.
(Manuela Rejas)
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