Winter 2012

Table of Contents - Vol. VIII, No. 4

 

Poetry    Translations    Fiction    Non-fiction    Reviews   

Briceida Cuevas Cob

 

 

My Village

My village is an old man
squatting on his heels
beneath the shade of Mother Ceiba Tree.
He carries with him the great Red Gourd
to serve fresh water to the traveler,
a knapsack filled with balls of white pozole
with which to relieve someone else’s hunger.

Oh, my village,
I have seen it forget many times its own wounds
while curing the pain of other people.

Oh, my village,
my village gives the world
the song of the birds,
the green of the forests,
the sweet smell of wet earth
when it receives the blessing of the God Chac
asking only for a smile in return.

If I could only write on its face
a new and different history.

That is why I am happy
with the feather of the great quetzal bird
I have in my hand
because I know that it doesn’t spit bullets,
it only writes stories,
and the little dreams
that have given us life for millennia.

My village,
my village is an old man
squatting on his heels
beneath the shade of the great Ceiba.

 

© Jonathan Harrington

 

Spanish Original

 

Mi pueblo

Mi pueblo,
mi pueblo es un anciano
apostado en cuclillas
bajo la sombra de la Madre Ceiba.
Lleva consigo su Gran Calabazo Rojo
para servirle agua fresca al caminante,
un morral lleno con bolas de pozole blanco
con el que mitiga el hambre ajena.

Ah, mi pueblo,
lo he visto tantas veces olvidar sus propias heridas
mientras sana las dolencias de otras gentes.

Ah, mi pueblo.
Mi pueblo lleva al mundo
el canto de sus pájaros,
el verde de sus bosques,
el dulce aroma de su tierra húmeda
—Cuando recibe esta bondad del Dios Cháak—
sin pedir a cambio más que una sonrisa.

Si tan sólo pudiera escribir sobre su rostro
una historia nueva y diferente.

Por eso estoy contento
con la pluma de Quetzal
que tengo en las manos,
porque sé que no escupe balas,
tan sólo escribe historias,
y los pequeños sueños
que nos dieron vida por milenios.

Mi pueblo,
mi pueblo es un anciano
apostado en cuclillas
bajo la sombra de la Madre Ceiba.

 

 

Yucatec Mayan Originals

 

In kaajal

In kaajal,
In kaajale' juntúul Nuxib
mot'okbal
tu yáanal u bo'oy X-ya'axche’
U jéentantmaj u Noj Chak Chúuj
tia'al u pichik síis ja' ti' J-xíimbal máak,
jump'éel sáabukaan chuup
yéetel u wóowolal sak k'eyem
tia'al u máansik u wi'ijil u baatsilo'ob.

Aaaaj, in kaajal,
Ts’o'ok in wilik piktun u téenel
u tu'ubsik u muk'yaj
tia'al u ts’akik u xéek'lil bini'it maáko'ob.

Aaaaj, in kaajal.
In kaajale' ku bisik yóok'ol kaab
u k'aay u ch'íich'ilo'ob,
u ya'axil u k'áaxilo'ob
wa u ki'ibokil u kojsíisal u lu'umil
– le k'iin ku k'amik le utsil ti' Yum Cháak' –
ba'ale' chen ku yaanyantik
ka'a su'utuk jump'éel sak che'ej u jeelintej.

Kexi' wa ka'a si'ibikten u páajtalil
in ts’íibtik tu táan yich in kaajal
jump'éel túumben yaanal tsikbale'.

Leti' beetik ki'imak in wóol
yéetel u k'u'uk'mel le K'áambul
yaan tin k'aba'
tumeen in wojel ma'atech u túubik yóol ts’oon,
chen u yojel u ts’íibt tsikbalo'ob
yéetel le mejen náayo'ob
síik k-kuxtal piktunil ja'abo'oba'.

In kaajal,
in kaajale' juntúul Nuxib
mot'okbal yáanal u bo'oy X-ya'axche'.

 

 

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