¿No ves, Leonor, los álamos del río
con sus ramajes yertos?
Mira el Moncayo azul y blanco; dame
tu mano y paseemos.
Por estos campos de la tierra mía,
bordados de olivares polvorientos,
voy caminando solo,
triste, cansado, pensativo y viejo.
(http://img6.imageshack.us/img6/7701/foto0138a.jpg)(http://img841.imageshack.us/img841/1157/foto0139c.jpg)(http://img84.imageshack.us/img84/8519/foto0141l.jpg)(http://img163.imageshack.us/img163/6896/foto0142mj.jpg)(http://img710.imageshack.us/img710/9154/foto0143ve.jpg)(http://img585.imageshack.us/img585/529/foto0145b.jpg)(http://img90.imageshack.us/img90/2148/foto0147w.jpg)(http://img849.imageshack.us/img849/1296/foto0148m.jpg)(http://img846.imageshack.us/img846/1610/foto0149.jpg)(http://img101.imageshack.us/img101/2319/foto0150c.jpg)