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When I see Baghdad, I remember my brethren all over again.
The Fall of Tenochtitlán: Broken spears lie in the roads; We have torn our hair in our grief The houses are roofless now, and their walls Are red with blood. Worms are swarming in the streets and plazas, And the walks are spattered with gore The water has turned red, as if it were dyed And when we drink it, It has the taste of brine We have pounded our hands in despair Against the adobe walls, For our inheritance, our city, is lost and dead The shields of our warriors were its defense. But they could not save it. We have chewed dry twigs and salt grasses: We have filled our mouths with dust and bits of adobe. We have eaten lizards, rats and worms When we had meat, we ate it almost raw. - Cantares Mexicanos The National Library of Mexico, circa 1523
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