We weep,tears of blood,we weep,In despair, crying,we weep;the sun forever has stolenthe light from his eyes.No more his face do we see,no more his voice do we hear,nor will his affectionate gazewatch over his people.
Jane Bierhorst, In the Trail of the Wind: American Indian Poems and Ritual Orations
death, native-american, poetry, quechua, sadness