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successor of the poetry magazine on kbin.social > this magazine is dedicated to poetry from all over the world: contributions from languages other than english are welcome! there is more to poetry than english only ...

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100 Refutations: Day 38 | InTranslation (intranslation.brooklynrail.org)

submitted 10 months ago by testing@fedia.io to c/poetry@fedia.io

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Nezahualpilli (1464-1515) was an Aztec poet. Second in fame only to, perhaps, Nezahualcoyotl, his birth and death are shrouded in myth. It is said that when he was a child, Nezahualpilli’s nannies witnessed him taking many different animal forms in his cradle. Regarding his death, his own descendant, the historian Ixtlilxóchitl, wrote that “he gathered himself in the innermost room of the palace, where pensive, sad, and tired of the grief of life, he ended his own….” (Fernando de Alva, “Ixtlitlxótchitl,” Obras Historicas, t. II, p. 328).

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[–] testing@fedia.io 1 points 10 months ago

from the article:

Song of Nezahualpilli [Excerpt]

(Thus perished Huexotzinco)

I am drunk, My heart, drunk: the aurora lifts, the zacuán bird sings, over the fence of shields, over the fence of darts.

Delight in it, you, Tlacahuepan, you, our neighbor, shaved-head. Drink the liquor of florid waters. On the shore of a current of birds, shaved-head.

Quetzal jade and feathers, stoned, destroyed, my great lords, death-drunk, there, in water’s grave, on the shoal, the Mexicas of the Magueyes region.

The eagle screams, the jaguar moans. Oh you, my prince Macuilmalinalli. There, in the province of smoke, in the land of red dirt, rightly, the Mexicas make war.

And I am drunk, I cuexteca My hair, like budding flowers, now shaved Again, and again, drinking flowering drink. Giving away precious florid nectar, Oh, my son, young, strong I grow pale.

Wherever holy waters reach, there, they are enraged and drunk, the Mexicas, with the flowering liquor of the gods. I remember now, the Chichimeca, for this alone, I mourn. For this, I weep. I, Nezahualpilli I remember now, He is only there, Where war’s flowers blossom. I remember him, and I weep.

“Rocío de Todos los Campos” performed by Natalia Lafourcade.