Centeotl: I, the variegated maize, came

forth.

 

 

Chorus: The multicolored flower of life

expands. It stood up shining, it flourished, in the

sacred presence of Our Mother.

 

 

Centeotl: The water splashes, the precious

water-leaf puts forth buds. I am a work of the

Creator. I am his creation.

 

 

Chorus: Your heart is alive in the painted

kernels (or words). The waterweed (or book)

is your throne: there you sing, that the princes

might dance; there you reign (or speak) at the

water’s edge (or in flowing words). He made

you: in a garden of flowers (or poems) he gave

you birth: he paints your name in song. The

artists indite it. The book is complete. Your heart

is perfected.

 

 

Centeotl: Here, through art, I live.