Hurry, Preciosa, hurry or the wind will get you ! - Run, Preciosa, Run ! - The wind and bomb's is close behind, satyr of love stars with his shiny tongues. Or the man with the Kalasnikof...

Preciosa throws away
her "tambourine" and runs.

The wind giant pursues her
with a hot sword.


The sea contracts its sound.
The olive trees turn pale.
Flutes of shadow sing
and the booms falling down...