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Nezahualcóyotl
“I love the song of the mockingbird,
Bird of four hundred voices,
I love the color of jade
And the intoxicating scent of flowers,
But more than all I love my brother, man.”
― Nezahualcóyotl
Kinich Ahau
HOW SOON IS NOW?
I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
Oh, shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way?
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
Oh, shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way?
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
There's a club if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home and you cry and you want to die
When you say it's going to happen now
Well, when exactly do you mean?
See, I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone
You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way?
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
Written by: Steven Patrick Morrissey
Kinich Ahau
We will pass away. I, Nezahualcoyotl, say, enjoy!
Do we really live on earth? Ohuaya, ohuaya.
Not forever on earth, only a brief time here!
Even jades fracture; even gold ruptures, even quetzal plumes tear:
Not forever on earth: only a brief time here! Ohuaya, ohuaya.
Nezahualcóyotl
All the earth is a grave and nothing escapes it,
nothing is so perfect that it does not descend to its tomb.
Rivers, rivulets, fountains and waters flow,
but never return to their joyful beginnings;
anxiously they hasten on the vast realms of the rain god.
As they widen their banks,
they also fashion the sad urn of their burial.
Filled are the bowels of the earth with pestilential dust once flesh and bone, once animate bodies of man who sat upon thrones, decided cases, presided in council, commanded armies, conquered provinces, possessed treasure, destroyed temples, exulted in their pride, majesty, fortune, praise and power. Vanished are these glories, just as the fearful smoke vanishes that belches forth from the infernal fires of Popocatepetl. Nothing recalls them but the written page.
Nezahualcóyotl
