Up on the stepped pyramids
on tables of stone
the end of the world is imprinted.
Two hundred years of drought
to death thirsted theMaya
maybe they tore their hearts by themselves
as a gift for the gods.
We discovered The New World of Columbus
with us the Incas and Aztecs
will forget their existence.
We baptized the pagans,
cut their hairs,
and now they all speak Castilian.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem