Poems of the Conquest
1. A ring of life surrounds our hearth Songs over the earth resound Flowers interwine with flowers Messengers of sunlit birth 'til suddenly a mist enshrouds A rain of flaming arrows falls The world we sang of is no more Our fate is written in the clouds 2. The gods are capricious They like to be coaxed In the palm of their hand They roll us and dice us Even the wisest are sometimes hoaxed. 3. Is this the truth? Or just a dream? A waking from a sleep. Tochihuitzin the poet said so Coyolchiuhqui sang it in the streets. In life we sleep In death we dream Like the springtime grasses Flowers of the sun We come and go Flower and bloom Seed and weep. Tochihuitzin the poet said so Coyolchiuhqui sang it in the streets. Is this the truth Or just a dream? Briefly are we on this earth. Tochihuitzin the poet said so Coyolchiuhqui sang it in the streets. Jade will break Gold will melt Plumes of Quetzal burn Only for a moment Are we here to meet Find pleasure where we can And then pass on. Tochihuitzin the poet said so Coyolchiuhqui sang it in the streets. 4. Was I born To leave my father's house? Did the gods Welcome our enemies? Should their delight Be at our people's cost? Weep Coatlicue For Mexico is lost. The stranger Forced entry on your child Innocence Is fled, dishonour stays Day turns aside My lord has shed his cloak His skin is white I cannot hide, I cannot hide. Weep Coatlicue For Mexico is lost. 5. Today we greet the sacrifice A god must live a god must die When life is lost, new life is found The flowers of eternity Will grow upon this sacred ground. We sing so that the earth will last So that the mountains never fall Nor dry the waters of the lake In dance and song we celebrate The bounty that the heavens make. We only came to sleep We only came to dream Do not believe, it is not true We came to live on earth. 6. The eagle weeps, the jaguar laments The fruit and flower of Mexico has gone And in their place a strange god stands and stares Fierce and boasting of a battle won. Mictlantecutli, lord of the dead Receive this broken staff as bread Receive this soul into your night Hide his misdeeds from our sight. The ashes of this lord will be dispersed As seeds before the wind let them fly May they enrich the earth where'er they fall So that his memory will never die. Mictlantecutli, lord of the dead Receive this broken staff as bread Receive this soul into your night Hide his misdeeds from our sight. 7. Broken swords lie scattered in the streets Our houses burn, their walls are stained with red Heaps of stones stand where temples stood Worms and vultures feast among the dead A price was on our head Two handfuls of corn, a heap of flies Became our daily bread. Strangers root among the smoking ruins For gold and slaves the precious spoils of war Cries of loss and mourning rent the air An alien god has occupied our shore. Suddenly the sun stood still Noon became our night Jaguars devoured every Mexica in sight Giants strode the earth that day Greeted each in turn Do not fall down, for he who falls In Christian flames will burn. This sequence is taken from my stage epic The Promised Land. It is based on pre-Colombian Nahuátl poetry and sourced from the following collections: Angel María Garibay - Poesía Indígena de la Altiplanicie, Mexico 1940 Miguel León-Portilla - Visión de los Vencidos (Crónicas Indígenas), Madrid 1985 Miguel León-Portilla - Quince Poetas del Mundo Náhuatl, Mexico 1994 London 2004 |