I don’t want this rain to dry up. At least not unless they let me fall right now instead of it, or unless they buried me soaked in the water shooting up from every fire in the world. I wonder where the water-line on my body will be? I’m afraid I’ll be left with one of my sides dry. I’m afraid the rain will end before I’m tested in the bone-dry months of the incredible vocal chords, where to create harmony we have to rise always! and never go down! Well, don’t we rise, really, to go down? Sing on, rain, on this coast still with no sea! — Cesar Vallejo