Today you are a murdered butterfly,
Like flower petals in the wind,
Each one falling to earth like something rare.

Today you are a murdered butterfly,
Your scales are like gold dust.
Black rain in black hearts.

Today you are a murdered butterfly.
Even Malverde is unmasked
By what the butterfly can see:

Twelve thousand suns and moons.
Twelve thousand skies and forests
And twelve thousand murderers…

Today you are a murdered butterfly,
Your migration will take you far
Beyond the fallen earth, Homero.