IN THE MITLA RUINS (FRAGMENT: FIFTH STANZA)
From the palace greatness:
From the temple unknown pomp;
The blue and abrupt mountain
Turned into a fortress;
Everything breathes of sadness,
Oblivion, mourning, neglect;
even the sun of clarity
Becomes dark and timid
In the mysterious door
Of black eternity!
Juan de Dios Peza
Fifth stanza translation from John Carlos Rowe