Сериал Лорка, смерть поэта / Lorca, muerte de un poeta

В мрачном полицейском участке, рядом с которым сидит человек, лишенный всякой надежды, остаются вопросы, которые никогда не найдут ответа. Кто предал его, кому это было нужно? Какова причина этой трагедии? Ведь теперь все имеет значение, главное - что кто-то отнял у него все: небо, солнце, зелёные леса, его песни и любимую Ла Барраку. Но нельзя допустить, чтобы всё так закончилось. Это как сон, и мужчина скоро вернётся к себе домой, где его ждут мать с отцом, брат и сёстры, все они его любят. Может быть, он вернётся иeverything will be as it was before. He will continue to read his poems in front of grateful audiences and stage plays in distant villages, and give concerts to wandering musicians who take him by the heart. But now, he is left with nothing but the stench of death and despair. In this bleak moment, he realizes that his life has been taken away from him, leaving him with only a brief glimpse of the world outside - the scent of blood and sweat. It is as if his entire existence had been reduced to a single, fleeting instant. The police station, once a symbol of authority and order, now seems like a dark and foreboding place, devoid of hope or redemption. As he walks down the empty street, he is met with an eerie silence, broken only by the distant hum of cars and the occasional chirp of a bird. It's as if the world has moved on without him, leaving him to confront his own mortality. The scent of blood and sweat lingers, a constant reminder of the brutal reality that has been imposed upon him. In this desolate landscape, he is forced to confront the cruel fate that has befallen him. His life, once full of promise and possibility, has been reduced to nothing more than a fleeting moment of despair. The stench of death and sweat clings to him like a shroud, a constant reminder of his own mortality. And yet, even in this darkest of moments, he finds solace in the fleeting instant when he was alive. He remembers the sun shining down on him, the sound of birds singing, the gentle rustle of leaves whispering his name. It's as if these brief moments of life have been preserved within him, a testament to the beauty and wonder that once existed. In this bleak moment, he is left with nothing but the stench of death and despair. But even in the face of such darkness, there remains a glimmer of hope - the fleeting instant when he was alive, when his heart was filled with love and his soul was full of life.