A barefoot, burdened peasant, she becomes a whirling spectacle, describing jagged flashes of lightning. Thunder rumbles from her throat. The very air around her vibrates with color and the sound of apocalyptic storm. Released through the exaggerated gestures and rhythms of her dance-a visualized chant of liberation-the Mother not only transforms herself, but changes a sun-filled sky into shattering orange.

google translate olmasın lütfen, bunu çevirebilir misinizz?