I, Cuauhtencoztli, here I am suffering.
What is, perchance, true?
Will my song still be real tomorrow?
Are men perhaps real?
What is that will survive?
Here we live, here we stay,
but we are destitute, oh my friends!
Here's part of one by Nezahualcoyotl, tlatoani (king or lord, literally 'spokesperson') of Texcoco and famous poet:
Ponder this, eagle and jaguar knights,
Though you are carved of in jade, you will break;
Though you are made of gold, you will crack;
Even though you are a quetzal feather, you will wither.
We are not forever on this earth;
Only for a time are we here.
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