Endemic rarities, grown with love.

They shall not wither, my flowers

My flowers will not end,
my songs will not cease.
I, the singer, will raise them up,
they will be distributed, they will be scattered.
Even when the flowers
wither and turn yellow,
they will be taken there,
to the interior of the house
of the bird with golden feathers.

— Nezahualcoyotl, founder of Tezcutzingo