Wednesday, February 11, 2009

I, Nezahualcoyotl, ask this:

Is it true one really lives on the earth? Not forever on earth, only a little while here. Though it be jade it falls apart, though it be gold it wears away, though it be quetzal plumage it is torn asunder. Not forever on earth, only a little while here. I comprehend the secret, the hidden: O my lords! Thus we are, we are mortal, men through and through, we all will have to go away, we all will have to die on earth. Like a painting, we will be erased. Like a flower, we will dry up here on earth. Like plumed vestments of the precious bird, that precious bird with the agile neck, we will come to an end... Think on this, my lords, eagles and ocelots, though you be of jade, though you be of gold, you also will go there, to the place of the fleshless. We will have to disappear, no one can remain.

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