If tu cut it down, then you'll never know. And you'll never hear the lobo cry to the blue maíz moon. For whether we are white o copper skinned, We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain. We need to paint with all the colores of the wind. tu can own the earth, and still, all you'll own is earth until tu can paint with all the colores of..... The wind.
I did this song for solo ensamble. I have it memorized.