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.