Prelude (to the nap of the Faun and the Bacchante)

“That I cut reeds defeated in the fight for talent; to the glaucous gold of the distant vegetables consecrating its vineyard to the fountains: An animal whiteness ripples in the siesta: and that, to the slow prelude of the celebration, swans flight, no! of naiads, dodge or dive ... "

• Martín BausDirector