| Missing her love or thinking of her sweet child, this Muertas longs for the heart in her hands. Death wilts all but love, and as the poem says, “Life without love, it’s often said, is like a sunless garden, where the flowers are dead”. |
| Missing her love or thinking of her sweet child, this Muertas longs for the heart in her hands. Death wilts all but love, and as the poem says, “Life without love, it’s often said, is like a sunless garden, where the flowers are dead”. |
