Huitzilopochtli, leader in war whose work is on high, who goes on his way: not in vain I take the yellow feathered cape, which through me is the sunshine. Dark portent, dweller in the clouds, you have but one foot dweller in the cold aztec lands You open your hands, feathers are given to the walls of the warm country broadcast they fly, proclaiming war my god is called defender of men Already he rises all covered with paper dweller in the warm country he circles in the dust dweller in the warm country he circles in the dust The Amanteca are our enemy about me place yourselves in war formation there will be war about me place yourselves