Children have to wait to be born
Or delay their birth 
Hiding in caves, trees or rivers 
Until they choose the moment 
Of their entry into the world 
And although their parents 
Do their best to imprint them 
With their virtues and values, 
They add one or two faults of their own.
  
The child retains some memory 
Of mother earth or 
Nostalgia for the secret places of 
Pre-existence where nothing is missing 
And the sun and the moon 
Fill every moment with their sovereignty. 
There's not even Eden 
To enjoy and to lose, just 
Enchantment of caves, trees or rivers.