Bell-clamor, a dust like smoke
rising. (Delight unto the Giver
of Life.) Flowers of the Shield
open their corollas, Glory
extends, seeps into the Earth.
Here, on the plain, Death--
in between, amid Flowers.
War-bound, and war-bent,
here, in the Field, a dust
like smoke rising, self-
entangles, winds itself
in florid deathly turns.
(Chichimec princes!
Fearless heart o'mine!)
Here, on the plain, Death--
& the obsidian blade my Heart
lusts for, for Death, death in battle.
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