I dragged my suffering to Belize
A jaguar gave me water
I covered my eyes not to see him,
Not to see his eyes that death is invading

But the ocean swallowed him without a word
In an explosion of smoke
I shivered with cold, the sun crushed me
With its acid and dark look

History hovers over the eyes of the shadows
Traveler, let me cross the inframonde
The nine levels that haunt,
The jealous lords of the half-light

The grass of this black country
Prolongs the earth with its morning glow
It is the anguished reflection of the first evening
The yellow smoke of the Spanish conquest

I tightened my cross until the blood
The golden killings drown the paper of my dreams
I liked the strange glittering
The moaning of the codices plunged in the Ocean

And my autodafé lights up an orange glow
In this sky wrung out by the angels
See! All this limestone crumbles between my fingers
Only the sapotiller wood believes me

Manuscripts folded in accordions
The tzeltal, the chol, the tojolabal; names
Under the Honduran sky — calligraphed
And the jungle chokes the carved stone

The forest has taken over the century
I go down the pyramid by degrees;
My cassock takes on the color of the blazing sky
A glyphic language floods my chastified chest