* This poem depicts a Meso-American legend of heroism. That legend is of a Tlaxcaltec Indian enemy of the Aztec tribe being sacrificed to their blood-thirsty Sun god, Huitzilopochtli. The sacrifice shown here is on the last night of a recurring 52-year life cycle for the Aztecs—a night when the Sun god might be typically inclined to destroy the world.
Yace el guerro tlaxcalteca
Yace viendo el domo celestial pasa en arcos, agachándose al horizonte oscuro.
Minutos se vuelven horas; yace y no mueve ni un dedo.
Ojos tuertos y aliento cerrando...
Invisibles estrellas brillan mas el Árbol Sagrado no le cegó.
La eclíptica cruza Pléyades; sacerdotes gritan “¡52 años más!”
Vientos pelan para atrás flácidos párpados; “ve” la cavidad donde estaba su corazón, arrancado como una raíz.
Ahora en llamas mas no se quema.
“¡Soy héroe tomado por vuestro error… esclavo enamorado del pueblo que he tratado de ver liberado.
Esta… mi última noche de terror!”
Degollado como una cabra...
Rodando por la escalera…
Cercenados brazos y piernas…
Rebotando de mala manera...
Muriendo anunciando La Vida.
Llegando al último…
Rezando; expirando…
The Tlaxcaltec Warrior Lies in Repose*
Resting, he sees the celestial dome passing in arcs cowering towards the dark horizon.
Minutes become hours; in repose without moving nary a finger.
Eyes gouged and hardly breathing…
Invisible stars flash long but the Sacred Tree did not blind him.
The ecliptic crosses Pleiades; Priests shout “52 more years!”
The wind peels back flaccid eye lids;
He “sees” the empty space where once his heart was, ripped up like a root.
Now in flames but it does not burn.
“I am a hero, taken because of your error… a slave with patriotic fervor; I tried to liberate the people I adore.
This—my last night of terror!”
Throat slit like a goat’s…
Rolling down the grade…
Lopped, his arms and legs…
Bouncing to and fro’…
Dying announcing Life.
Arriving at the last step…
praying; offering his soul…
