When the snow falls in the volcanic belt
You’ll find me in the pine-oak forest
A deep abyss in my eyes
As I prance around
The moonlight catches my silvery fur
Turning it into an endless glinting substance
The snow is 10 inches high and growing deeper
The trees darken as I gallop
Leaving my prints in the snow
In the heart of the forest
The winters are freezing cold
I howl to the moon
The Mexican night calls to me
It summons me out of the forest
I start my descent, back to the beginning