"Sad Song of Cuacuauhtzin

My heart craves the flowers,
that they be in my hands.
With songs I am saddened,
I only try to compose songs on the earth.
I, Cuacuauhtzin,
with anxiety I desire the flowers,
that they be in my hands,
for I am dispossessed.

Where would we go
that we never have to die?
Though I be precious stone,
though I be gold,
I will be dissolved,
there in the crucible melted down.
I have only my life,
I, Cuacuauhtzin, I am dispossessed.

You make resound
your kettle drum of jade,
your red and blue conch shell,
you, Yoyontzin, Panting One.
Now he has come,
now the singer has risen.
For a short time be happy,
come and be present,
those with the sad heart.
Now he has come,
now the singer has risen.

Open the corolla of your heart,
let it tread the lofty heights.
You have hated me,
you have marked me for death.
Now I go to His house,
I will perish.
Perhaps because of me you will weep,
because of me you will be sad,
you, my friend,
but now I will go,
now I am going to His house.
Only this my heart tells,
I will not return,
never will come back to the earth,
now I will go, I am going to His house.

Only useless effort,
enjoy, enjoy, my friends.
Should we not be happy,
should we not have pleasure, my friends?
I will take with me the beautiful flowers,
the beautiful songs.

Never I do it in springtime,
I alone am in need,
alone am I, Cuacuauhtzin.
Should we not enjoy, my friends?
I will take with me the beautiful flowers,
the beautiful songs."

--Fifteen Poets of the Aztec World, Miguel León-Portilla (1992)