Grains sleep on the Earth
where before we saw them strong
break the ground, quarry
yesterday... today lean seed.

Image and likeness
deterioration sets in
and against all hope
with progress it dies.

It is natural what burns,
the evil that lasts and hurts.
How orange blossoms return,
it always greens up!

Because the afternoon suffocates,
because the seeds sleep,
for his silent defeat
its green torrent dies!

But at the foot of a tender cradle
and from the canyon of the harvest
we nourish what oozes
and bite the green luck!