April 21, 2000
By Oyamel González
Go beyond the land showered by crying roses.
Go down the mountain who bows to the jade river.
Go where the white willow hugs the red obsidian soil.
Go there to undress my lips!
Each is a flowing chocolate.
Each is a petal butterfly.
Don't let them fly away to kiss the sun and turn him blue
or are you afraid to find fire mixing with fire?