This is a Nahuatl poem written by an anonymous Aztec a few years after the fall of Tenochtitlan. I will post the original if ever I get it.

Our cries of grief rise up
and our tears rain down,
for Tlatelolco is lost
The Aztecs are fleeing across the lake;
they are running away like women.

How can we save our homes, my people?
The Aztecs are deserting the city:
the city is in flames, and all
is darkness and destruction.

Motelchiuhtzin the Huiznahuacatl,
Tlacotzin the Tlailotlacatl,
Oquitzin the Tlacatecuhtli
are greeted with tears.

Weep, my people:
know that with these disasters
we have lost the Mexican nation.
The water has turned bitter,
our food is bitter!
These are the acts of the Giver of Life

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