Those colorful lights went out, fading behind the scenes of the turbulent time. All the books of myths grew, and dived into the darkness of the enchanted pink sea. Its sailor dived, then returned carrying that Andalusian novel.. It sparkled and glowed like a captivating pearl adorning the faces of the Bedouins. Everyone wonders and asks, where are the youths of the darkness? Where is the supporter of mankind? Have the leaves of their youth truly faded! Is Andalusia their sword in a translated wooden sheath?! The memory of our Andalusia is a source of pride, and its days are a source of comfort for every alphabetical order. A land never died, and its leaders were supporters of truth and sowers of goodness. Everyone hopes for its views and dreams of sitting under the branches of its trees. All the people of the earth look to it, contemplating the splendor of its towering castles and its streets decorated with the letters of Islamic justice. Everyone is in amazement and astonishment, captivated by the winds of honest, noble jasmine.