With broken earth promises
As nature is to love
To grow and burst
With a hatred of the blossom
A becomes but a wage
That receives such a grandiose acclamation
That all that is paternal
Leads to these pretty girls that hold the vine
And begs
For the babies to grow
To flower in the darkness and reveal in daylight
Sweet and rounded
To have the flesh broken
That covered the nakedness

Remain magic in fertility
And give your offering to no one but the cultivator