Tu risa me hace libre

Orihuela, 1934. There he is again, that boy with green eyes, because they are green, no matter how much others insist on seeing them as blue or brown, and I, sewing away by this window, and my companions, laughing away; Josefina, you've got a suitor, the son of Visenterre, the goatherd, who they say is a poet, who curls the moon. Oh, Josefina, Josefinica, Josefinita, don't look at him, no, and above all don't smile, don't laugh, because it is your laughter that will give him wings and carry him far, far away, up the high scaffolding of the flowers. And you will lose him, oh, Josefina, because death will soon take flight and at 31 years old, in that horrendous prison, Miguel Hernández will die, wind of the people, expert in moons, a ray that does not cease in the mind of Josefina Manresa, widowed at 26 years old, who remembers and keeps in her trunk, among sewing and sleepless nights, everything that her husband left in life, everything, despite the censorship, the persecution and the oblivion.