California State University (CSU): Open Journal Systems

Parada, Kimberly

31
 
I consumed his vacant chill as 
we kissed. Are you really 24? he hummed 
while we laid 
on his mattress. The hollow room 
vibrated a purple plum sweet like 
his lips. The LED lights fed his cavity’s ether, 
softening his wrinkled smile. 
     He asked. Then
 
My chest 
fell;
 
 my toes 
plunged on his hardwood 
floor; My eyes scanned all around—
 
 no bedframe; 
 no furniture; 
 no clothes; 
 not a thing—
 
nothing. He 
pulled me in closer while his vestal fridge hummed… 
Was he 
Really 
28?
 FRIDAY NIGHT 
KIMBERLY PARADA
A


English

Friday Night

Espinosa, Chris

|  35 |
E d i t i n g  i s  N e v e r  D o n e
C h r i s  E s p i n o s a
I finally get it
as the fish tank light flutters and
sparkles over the shipwreck,
while the Youtube rain soundtrack makes
it feel like the room is dripping.
The three little ones dive and dodge
the bubbles, pecking at them, convinced
they are food.
I finally get it
searching through the mass of digital
folders, all scattered and down deep
in a hard drive.
I finally get it when I reread old works after
promising some girl I would send her
a few words, just a taste, something to whet
the appetite and maybe she’ll think
I am good.
I get it, finally,
that editing is never done, and it’s late and work
wants me in early and there isn’t enough water
in the apartment to wring in sobriety so it’s all
suffering and cotton mouth. It should have been a quick send,
copy, ctrl-V, but my finger slipped an hour ago
and I’m trying to decide if “circumnavigate” is the right word
choice in line four, stanza nine, and it was two
hours ago when
I wanted a cigarette and for
some reason, or the shift in cold weather,
|  36 |
Editing is Never Done |  Espinosa
“circumnavigate” just bothered me.
So ten minutes ago I decided to
rewrite the whole poem from scratch, and it was shorter,
compress, Hall always said, Chris, please, for the love of god,
compress. And now, two pages is four stanzas and it’s marvelous
and I am a little less than drunk, but it doesn’t matter.
The poem is gorgeous and the confidence is back and
I feed the fish and finally stand for a congratulatory smoke, knocking
the water over, slamming
the top of the lap to rescue the hard drive from the wave
and as everything crashes and swells
I realize, I never pressed save. And it doesn’t matter.
I finally get it;
the poem exists for as long as you see it. Poems are
“Super Position,” an electron in two places,
simultaneously.
A stanza existing and unwriting itself all
in the same moment.
In my head I type an apologetic ballad to the girl
and crawl into the cold covers of bed,
all the while still wondering why circumnavigating just didn’t seem
like the right place to end.


Editing is Never Done

Dugas, Hollie

52
VOWS FOR SINNERS
HOLLIE DUGAS
 
Let’s say your body is the coffin 
I lay our non-truths. And God 
is the grave that holds you, 
holding our crumpled lies, 
our white and shriveled trash. 
Let’s say He carries our shame 
in His metaphysical pocket— 
sheepishly—like the girl’s 
phone number he jotted down 
from a bar-bathroom stall 
and kissed just once. How long 
can we bear 
to flaunt our imperfections 
at one another? How cavernous 
a cavity does one body need 
to carry on forgiving? 
My impieties fill you, a sharp 
sour gas moving dark 
and unholy through you, 
seeping into the rungs 
of your spine, eating 
new wounds on your wrists. 
You swallow the words 
I feed you, a wad of maggots. 
Tell me, how do you keep 
the crow away 
when you are bursting open 
with rot? There is no other way 
to apologize but to shovel 
your fissuring body from God, 
help you crawl out— 
blackened and worldly. 
 
 A


Vows For Sinners

Centurion, Sophia

Ralphs Closes at 1 AM

Hoare, Jazzie

83IN THIS TIME OF PARCHED THINGS: A 
TRANSLATION OF GRIEF - a microreview 
JAZZIE HOARE
“In This Time of Parched Things”: A Translation of Grief
 Marsha de la O, a poet from California, explores the rela-
tionship between an individual’s lived experiences with that of 
various animals in her poetry. She often connects these lives 
to illustrate how a person reacts to events in their life. Her 
poem, “In This Time of Parched Things,” from her book of poems 
Creature, utilizes transfiguration to translate her grief from 
her father’s death. 
 Translation, at times, manifests the most accurate expres-
sion of a person’s lived experience. Multilingual individuals 
would understand how saying something in one language does not 
have the same effect as the translation in another. After work-
ing for more than twenty-five years as a bilingual teacher, 
de la O would know the difference between the Spanish phrase 
“me arde” and the English translation “it irks me.” “Me arde” 
translates literally to “it burns me,” but the literal and con-
notative translations do not capture the intense total-body 
revulsion that the phrase describes. Only the Spanish version 
truly captures this sensation. Essentially, expressing oneself 
through translation leverages its connotative meaning to better 
capture the described experience, just as “me arde” captures 
intense emotion better. In Creature, de la O frequently utiliz-
es translation to portray her emotions.
 In “In This Time of Parched Things,” de la O uses transfig-
uration rather than Spanish to leverage translation to illus-
trate her grief. Transfiguration entails the speaker’s embodi-
ment of a creature, which is a lizard in this poem, to translate 
their lived experience through the described actions of the 
creature. This poem observes a lizard existing freely, who is 
compared with “a miniature wild burro in tall grass” (line 3) 
and by “extending his neck, a bird dog/ gathering scent” (lines 
4-5) in the second stanza through metaphor. No, the lizard does 
not literally transfigure into a wild burro or a, obviously 
nonexistent, bird dog just as de la O does not morph into 
a hawk as described in the poem “Creature,” but their ex-
periences resemble these animals. The lizard stands tran- L
84
quilly, resembling a burro, and stretches out his neck like a 
bird or dog might. So, the transfiguration functions as a means 
to translate the lizard’s actions in context with his life. 
Subverting the notion that an individual can only be one thing; 
the lizard is related to a combination animal “bird dog.” With-
out specific words or images that can exist in real life, the 
lizard’s existence is skillfully portrayed through the tone and 
imagery expressed through these two metaphors (translation via 
transfigurations). Early in the poem, de la O establishes that 
transfiguration will serve to translate hardships as the Span-
ish phrase “me arde” would.
 This poem’s specific hardship refers to the death of de la 
O’s father, illustrated through the transfiguration as trans-
lation. Grief can control a person, insisting that anger and 
bitterness dominate society's expectation for maintaining pro-
priety. To illustrate her grief induced frustration over her 
father’s death, de la O initially makes herself akin to the liz-
ard, then infers that she becomes the lizard. The speaker, who 
is assumed to be de la O, says, “it’s almost kinship I feel. 
Have I become his mother?” to introduce the notion of herself 
metaphorically transfiguring into the lizard (line 8). She ini-
tially mistakes herself as relating to a mother’s instinct, 
prompting her to remember her dead son. In the following stan-
za, she expresses how she “wanted” to name and grow “him” into 
a mythological creature (line 11). It is grammatically unclear 
if “him” refers to the lizard or the son, illustrating ambi-
guity in being. Naming him might refer to how like the boy he 
“never came back” and could not become mythological as she does 
throughout Creature. The shift to past tense in “wanted” illus-
trates something that could never occur again, just like making 
memories with her dead son, her late father. So, through this 
kinship with the lizard, the specific hardship of her father’s 
unretractable death is revealed as being symbolically connected 
with the lizard. 
 This connection segues into de la O’s transfiguration to 
the lizard to express her grief via translation. De la O de-
scribes the lizard as “One teaspoon of alligator, a spoonful/ 
of philosopher, a mouthful of daggers” (lines 15-16). Since the 
speaker, assumed to be de la O, is the lizard because of trans-
figuration, this description applies to de la O herself through 
translation. Consequently, the negativity grief induces could 
85be de la O’s “mouthful of daggers” as she strives for heal-ing through her poetry, the “spoonful/ of philosopher.” A 
line before, the speaker and the lizard exchange knowing 
glances, essentially understanding one another through common-
ality in their lived experience, which prompts her transfigu-
ration into him as a craft decision to translate her struggle 
with grief, instead of words. In this moment, the lizard basks 
in the sun, symbolizing the optimism that de la O adopts to 
process her grief. Moreover, the lizard’s “armor” scales pro-
tect a “private, tender blue” that symbolizes the hardshell op-
timistic mask she wears to cover her inner struggle (line 17). 
Since this lizard’s described lived experience resonates with 
her, she claims that “Once, [she] asked for a different body,” 
the lizard’s (line 19). “Once” may allude to her poem “Once” 
that illustrates a moment of happiness. So, she chooses trans-
figuration to experience the world as the lizard does, feign-
ing optimistic relief from grief in the warm sun. Therefore, 
her transfiguration into the lizard best expresses her struggle 
with positivity amid grieving her father because it best trans-
lates her conflicting emotions.
 Through transfiguration as translation, de la O subverts 
the usual methods of imagery or characterization through dia-
logue and action to elicit empathy. Eugenia Leigh’s “The First 
Leaf” illustrates the irrevocable trauma in a father-daughter 
relationship through reptilian imagery and commentary to prompt 
empathy towards the speaker, which differs from de la O’s usage 
of transfiguration. Additionally, Terrance Hayes’ “Inside me is 
a black-eyed animal” expresses his struggle against limitations 
on his freedom through declaring the animalistic chaos inside 
of him, which resembles de la O’s transfiguration while using 
fragmented dialogue that connects with the traditional mode for 
depiction. So, innovating with what others experiment with, “In 
This Time of Parched Things” uniquely uses creatures- the liz-
ard- as a symbol, and a goal, for the speaker through a dynamic 
identification with it that initiates with vague relatability 
to metaphoric transfiguration to translate the primary emotion 
of the poem. 
 The poem’s title indicates a time period in which “Things” 
are “Parched”, yet neither the lizard nor the speaker is de-
picted as parched. De la O’s Creature connects being 
parched with death as one lies buried in the dry dirt, 
unable to drink water. Nevertheless, the poem showcases L
86
the speaker observing the lizard, her faint connection to him, 
and her eventual transfiguration into him to perceive the world 
through a true, yet out-of-body way. Thus, de la O adopts the 
benefits of translation for accurate expression of experience 
with grieving her father’s death through her transfiguration to 
the lizard- who has both tranquility and war in his life. 


In This Time Of Parched Things: A Translation Of Grief- a microreview

goli, sam

|  50 |
i walk
desolate streets beside my family, three-thousand
miles away from the rubble of two
smoking stacks of three-thousand
lives, too many tons of debris.
we enter
a diner. a grey silence saunters
over then sits
among us—an unfamiliar visitor.
on the t.v. behind the counter, images
of bruised
men with turbans, their wives
weep, plead for Allah’s mercy.
Osama, Osama: we hear my father’s
chewed name, ground between tooth
and tongue, spit out like the shells
of sunflower seeds we usually share on sunny
days like these—pockets full of laughter,
drinking black & mint tea. today,
we share
a grand slam breakfast, beneath
a freshly printed banner declaring united
we stand. but from my own circle, at this table,
i notice people peer in, strangers
squinting to investigate our Arabic
coffee-colored eyes, turned downward
beneath thick dark brows. my siblings,
s a m  g o l i 
t h i r t e e n
|  51 |
thirteen |  sam goli 
too young to notice. my parents
pay with the credit card stamped
with my mother’s Mexican name instead.
we leave,
bellies full, spirits betrayed,
in my dad’s ford s.u.v. driving
away, i look for the shadow of
one of the two American flags
we have clipped to our back
side windows. at high noon, all i see
is pavement.


thirteen

Arrington, Donel

|  43 |
D o n e l  A r r i n g t o n
C o n s t r u c t i o n
It starts with the pledge of allegiance
in kindergarten, when you’re five or six
the fourth of July, Sparklers, Captain America
hot dogs, red white and blue cake.
Will Smith blowing up aliens and that
white CIA guy in Black Panther.
Then Columbus, the founding fathers.
The idea that George Washington,
and Thomas Jefferson were great men.
That they believed in freedom and justice
for all. It grows and it morphs until you’re
reading in your history book that the U.S.
invaded Iraq to liberate the Iraqi people from
Saddam Hussein, Afghanistan from the Taliban—
This is the foundation of the American Myth
this is the construction of the American Lie,
Never are you taught that you are on stolen land.
Of the conquest and torture, the rape and bloodshed.
That Washington and Jefferson didn’t care about
the freedom of their slaves, of the natives whose
Construction |  Arrington
|  44 |
genocide created the 13 colonies and beyond,
of the women who weren’t allowed to vote
Not that! Never are you taught about the land we
stole. About California, Nevada, New Mexico, Colorado,
Texas, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, The Dakotas, The Indian Wars,
Sharp Knife Andrew Jackson and his scalping techniques—
Never are you taught about the CIA toppling democratically
elected governments in Panama, Syria, Iran, Guatemala, the
Congo, Brazil, Chile, Not that! Not taught about installing
dictators and death traps, no never. Never are you taught
the fact that the FBI murdered Fred Hampton while he slept
in bed next to his pregnant girlfriend. That the CIA brought crack
to the streets of Compton, that the War on Drugs is code for war
on Black People and the Anti-War movement—
Never have they taught you that, because if they did
that would be the destruction of the myth,
the destruction of the America that they’ve constructed
in your mind since you were a kid watching the Superbowl,
listening to the national anthem as the jets fly overhead.
Never would they have taught you that— because if they did,
you might just see America for exactly what it is.


Construction

Sanchez, Brandon

|  59 |
Call Me When You Get This
Setting: 
Two characters, DAVE and MICHELLE, are 
leaving each other a VOICEMAIL. Dave 
is at his house, while Michelle is sitting in 
a café. 
MICHELLE (through VOICEMAIL)
Hey, it’s Michelle! Sorry I couldn’t get to the phone but leave a 
message and I’ll get right back to you.
A beep is heard offstage.
DAVE
Hey, it’s me. 
Lights on DAVE’s side of the stage. He is pacing around his 
living room.
I just wanted to talk to you about, I don’t know, everything I 
guess? 
Lights on DAVE go out.
DAVE (through VOICEMAIL)
What’s up, it’s Dave. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.
A beep is heard offstage. Lights on MICHELLE’s side of the 
stage. She is sitting alone at a table in a coffee shop.
MICHELLE
Hey, it’s me. We should talk.
Brandon Sanchez
|  60 |
Lights on DAVE’s side of the stage.
DAVE and MICHELLE
Honestly, we should have had this talk a long time ago.
DAVE
It just was never the right time, you know? It seemed like every 
time I was ready to do this, something else was more import-
ant.
MICHELLE
We’ve been together for almost two years now, and they’ve 
been some of the best of my life. 
DAVE and MICHELLE
Do you still remember our first date?
DAVE and MICHELLE both leave their sides of the stage 
and meet in the middle, a table in a restaurant. They in-
teract with one another but continue speaking as if they 
are on the phone.
DAVE
Honestly, I wanted to do this right then and there, but, you 
would have thought I was crazy. You just looked so beautiful.
MICHELLE
From the very first time we went out, you were the man of my 
dreams. I pictured myself getting old with you, having a family 
with you… I knew you were the one.
DAVE
You laughed at all my jokes, and I laughed when you had trou-
ble pronouncing escargot. It was simple, but, it was special.
|  61 |
MICHELLE
It was the best first date I had ever been on, even if the escargot 
tasted like slimy dirt.
Extended silence. Both characters stand up and look at 
one another.
DAVE and MICHELLE
Do you remember our anniversary?
MICHELLE
You knew I never got to go to my high school prom, so you took 
me out to that fancy jazz club. We got all dressed up and spent 
the night dancing…
DAVE and MICHELLE both walk to the front center of the 
stage and continue their calls while dancing with each 
other.
DAVE
It had been a full year since our first date, so I knew that was 
the night. I wanted to give you the prom night you never got to 
have. It was everything I had wanted it to be, until…
DAVE and MICHELLE
Your/my Mom died.
They stop dancing and break apart.
MICHELLE
I got the call while we were still at the club. I knew she wasn’t 
doing well but, I thought I still had time.
DAVE
We went back to your place and you spent the rest of the night 
|  62 |
crying in my arms. I had wanted to do this back then but, it 
wasn’t the right time anymore. I needed to be there for you.
MICHELLE
I guess I just needed you there with me, to get through that. 
But, we were never the same.
DAVE
You got distant. Which is fine, I gave you all the space you need-
ed.
MICHELLE
I just needed some time to figure everything out.
DAVE
We still saw each other, but it was rare. I knew it was just a 
rough patch, though. We’d come out on the other side stronger.
MICHELLE
I took a lot of time to think. About my mom, about you, about 
me… about everything. Thanks for being patient with me. For 
as long as you could.
Extended silence. Both characters return to their original 
settings.
DAVE and MICHELLE
Then that date happened.
DAVE and MICHELLE return to the restaurant setting.
MICHELLE
You wanted me to feel better, so you took me back to where we 
had our first date.
|  63 |
DAVE
I figured going back to where it all started might bring back 
that spark.
MICHELLE
You wanted to talk, to go back to the way things were. But I 
wasn’t ready.
DAVE
You couldn’t look me in the eye for most of the meal. 
MICHELLE
I knew you wanted this to be special, but I just couldn’t do it.
MICHELLE hurriedly walks out of the restaurant setting.
DAVE
You asked for a separate check and left before dessert. I didn’t 
say anything at the time, but that hurt.
DAVE leaves the restaurant setting, the lights go down 
on that part of the stage. DAVE and MICHELLE return to 
their original settings.
MICHELLE
I shouldn’t have walked out on you. I just wasn’t ready for all of 
that.
DAVE
I just wanted things to go back to normal, but I know that’s 
dumb.
Silence.
|  64 |
DAVE and MICHELLE
I’m so sorry about last week.
Lights on center stage. Where the restaurant scene origi-
nally was, there is now a thin wall. Two silhouettes ap-
pear on the wall. They are arguing without words.
DAVE
I guess I just, got tired of waiting? And that wasn’t fair to you, 
and I’m sorry.
MICHELLE
I was shutting you out and you got tired of it. You were right. I 
wasn’t taking us seriously.
DAVE
I just love you so much. It’s been months since your Mom 
passed, and I couldn’t stand seeing you fight that fight alone 
anymore. I just wanted you to know that I’m here.
MICHELLE
You kept trying to make me feel better and I kept treating you 
like dirt. I don’t blame you for blowing up, I would have too.
DAVE
I shouldn’t have raised my voice. That wasn’t fair to you. 
MICHELLE
But that was the last thing I needed.
DAVE
I haven’t seen you in weeks. I don’t blame you for not speaking 
to me. I wouldn’t speak to me either.
|  65 |
MICHELLE and DAVE
So, that’s why I’m calling you. 
DAVE
We haven’t spoken since last week, and I’ve been trying to think 
of a way to make it up to you.
MICHELLE
I’ve thought a lot about what you said last week.
DAVE
I knew I wanted to do something big.
MICHELLE
I needed to figure out what I wanted from you; from us.
DAVE
But, I know you, and I knew you wouldn’t even speak to me un-
til I made this right. I had wanted to take you out somewhere, 
but, this will have to do. I can’t wait anymore.
MICHELLE
I can’t hold my feelings in anymore. I need to let it out.
DAVE
It was never the right time, but now it is.
DAVE and MICHELLE
I have loved you since the first time we met. 
MICHELLE
You have been the man of my dreams for almost two years, and 
I have loved every second I’ve been with you.
|  66 |
DAVE
You’re the most important person in my life, and I want you to 
know that.
DAVE and MICHELLE
And that’s why I need to tell you… 
Both characters breathe, readying themselves for what 
they’re about to say.
DAVE
I want to marry you.
MICHELLE
I don’t love you anymore.
DAVE
I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have kids 
and raise them with you.
MICHELLE
I’m sorry, I’ve been so unfair to you. You didn’t deserve any of 
this. 
DAVE
I can’t wait to see you. Things are going to be better than ever, I 
promise.
DAVE and MICHELLE
We need to talk in person. Call me when you get this. 
DAVE
I love you.
 Lights out on DAVE.
|  67 |
MICHELLE
I’m so sorry, Dave.
Lights out on MICHELLE. Extended silence.
VOICEMAIL
You have one new voicemail. To listen, press one.


Call Me When You Get This

Tillis, Jake

NR
Life as Harold
 Harold is unable to organize his memories in chronological order. He was 
not dropped as a baby or hit by a bus. He was born without the part of your 
brain that’s supposed to act as a filing cabinet. All his memories exist at the 
same time. His brain picks and chooses the order at random. It’s just “one of 
those things.” People point and laugh because he’ll sometimes forget he isn’t a 
two-year-old baby that doesn’t know how to walk. Other times, he forgets how 
to think in words. Harold is a 46-year-old man. For the time being. Harold often 
forgets where he is and what he’s doing. Or when it is. You only know it’s the 
present because the past already happened. Harold doesn’t get that luxury. This 
is how Harold currently remembers his life, in sequential order:
1. 16-years-old. Danny Elfman wins a Grammy for writing “The Batman 
Theme.” Dinner’s cold. Mom’s pissed. Not about Batman.
2. 44-years-old. You’re on the phone with a woman. Don’t know who. 
You think you recognize her voice. She sounds worried. That’s why you 
recognize it. She says you haven’t called in a while. Did you call her? She 
tells you she loves you. You tell her you love her too. You don’t know who 
she is. But you know you love her. 
3. 35-years-old. Just got a haircut. You show the barber the same picture of 
you every time because that’s how you like it cut. You’re 14 in the picture. 
You think mom took it. You just introduced yourself to the barber that 
you’ve been going to for the past two years. He went along with it. There 
was something you were supposed to do today…
4. 8-years-old. In your room. Talking to the walls again. You talk to the walls 
because the walls are nice to you. You know it’s sad. The walls are your 
friend. You hear yelling from the other room. What’s the problem? 
5. 19-years-old. Dodger game. You ate three Dodger Dogs and threw up in 
the bathroom. You lost count. You’re with Dad. Mom’s not there. Dad’s not 
wearing his wedding ring. 
6. 23-years-old. You’re with dad in the bathroom. You’re sitting on the floor. 
53
Jake Tillis
NR
He’s wiping the blood off your scraped knees. Forget how to walk again? 
Must have embarrassed him. You feel sorry for Dad. You feel sorry you are 
the way you are.
7. 20-years-old. Everything’s black. What’s going on? You open your eyes. 
Everything isn’t black anymore. You’re at a wedding. Dad is up there with 
a woman. Not your mom. You close your eyes. Everything’s black. What’s 
going on? You feel the letter in your pocket.
8. 42-years-old. You smell sausage. The nurse is making breakfast. You aren’t 
allowed to be near knives. Dad is sitting on the other side of the table. He’s 
getting old. You like to think the nurse is for him. You get an at-home nurse 
because you were born well-off. You’ve never had a job. Who would hire 
you? You can’t get anything done. You can’t make your own sausage for 
breakfast.
9. 12-years-old. Mom’s teaching you math. You don’t get to go to school with 
the other kids. You don’t have any friends. Or maybe you do. You don’t 
remember. You don’t know math either. But she tells it to you anyway. It’s 
for her too.
10. 21-years-old. Watching a movie with Dad. Dazed and Confused. He says 
it’s your favorite movie. There’s no real plot. You like that. It is your favorite 
movie. 
11. 32-years-old. You’re standing on the street. You’re lost. You don’t know if 
you’ve been there before. You feel scared. You don’t want to embarrass 
yourself. You want to run. You think about running. Dad walks out of the 
house. He says he left his jacket inside. 
12. 18-years-old. Mom’s writing a letter. She’s crying. Dad’s standing by the 
door. She puts the letter in an envelope and doesn’t seal it. She writes on 
the back of it “Read me – Mom.” There’s a phone number written on the 
bottom. She tells you not to lose it.
13. 10-years-old. You’re laying down on grass. You look up at the sky. You don’t 
know when. Or where. Or why. The clouds move. That’s what clouds do. 
You wonder how far they’ve traveled since you started watching them. You 
wonder how long you’ve been there. You dig your fingers into the earth. 
Dirt gets in your fingernails. You don’t mind. You feel at peace.
54
Jake Tillis


Life as Harold

Leaños, Angelina

10
Le
a
ño
s
save your death | Angelina Leaños
let this year close not with your casket 
but with sueños del Año Nuevo — dream not of heaven yet.
when Death visits you in el hospital, tell them to wait in the lobby 
where I will be because no one believes I am yours.
prove the doctors wrong and call my name — 
coat your voice in sugar for this spell I’ll cast to bring you home.
when you return with me, embrace mi bisabuela — 
fill a well with all the tears she spilled in your absence.
parade the streets scented by barbacoa y carne asada  
shine in your survival, God’s answer to our prayers.
no se llore por lo que perdió pero celebra con el valle — 
ahorra celebramos, let’s dance your breath entre la tierra
and when you look longingly to the heavens I’ll say 
ahora no es su tiempo — save your death for another day.


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