Source
Copper cobwebs
lined with good clothes,
nobly resist
the time of becoming;
they carry in a double line
the caress of a good candle.
Made up by the dust
trapeze and playful,
completes more the climax
the merciless drought,
there is no more huizache or elm tree,
no tree in bloom!
The day is hell,
the night a desert in bloom;
all is dry, even in tender;
white, black and red is the colour.
How one longs for winter,
a hug and a good liquor.