Luna

Oh gods of the world, your temples, your paths
north of the darkness
South of death, to the sun in the east,
and to the pulque west of Venus

Moon, where the clay sways in the foam
of all the nights of my loneliness
I follow the steps you point out to me
from your return to my end
I see my reflection in your puddles of blood
and feel the everlasting calm
of past times of ancient men
oh voices, oh lights, leaving a mark