I am Huitzilopochtli, sitting in the dark.
With my redness staining the body of the dark.
I watch by the fire.
I wait behind men.
In the stillness of my night
The cactus sharpens his thorn.
The grass feels with his roots for the other sun.
Deeper than the roots of the mango tree
Down in the centre of the earth
Is the yellow, serpent-yellow shining of my sun.