.Aguas cristalinas, visten mi curtida piel
Por mis ocho hijas, reinaré...
Viento de levante, ¿quieres ser tú mi corcel?
Te prometo el mundo, por ti lo conquistaré...
Lluvia envejecida, bruma iluminada
Trepo a los peldaños, para encumbrarlos
Madre es la montaña, su.
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