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Weeping is with us, tears fall like rain, here in Tlatilolco; as the Mexican women go down to the water, we beg of them for ourselves and our friends, alas. In ic neltic o ya cahua Atloyantepetl o in Mexico in poctli ehuatoc ayahuitl onmantoc, in tocon ya chihuaya ipalnemoani, ohuaya.
O an niquitquiz ye niaz yectli nocuic yectli noxochiuhui annicuihuan tepilhuan aya. I shall hasten forth, I shall go to the sweet songs, the sweet flowers, dear friends and children. O huayanco o nichocaya a huayanco o cahua y yahue nictzetzelo xochitl ay yo. O he! I cried aloud; O he! I rained down flowers as I left.
Tel ca cahua xochitl ahuiac xeliuhtihuitz a ipotocaya in ahuiyac poyomatlin pixahua oncan ninenenemi nicuicanitl y ye aya o ohui y on ca quiya itzmolinï ye nocuic celia, etc. But the flowers depart, their sweetness is divided and exhales, the fragrant poyomatl rains down its leaves where I the poet walk in sadness; one hears them growing, etc.
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