Akinon itlajtoltsin

Notlajtoltsin salijtok ipan ixik atsintle niman ajakatl
Inuaxka tlakatotomoxtin iuan siuaxochimej
uan mojmostla kinmiyakiliaj intlatemikuan
Inuaxka tokniuan uan tekuajkuaj ika intlamachilis
On tlakatl uan tetejteke niman nomiktsia san no yajua
On nauajle uan teka nokayaua niman tepal tlakua
On tekuannauajle uan tlajtlatoua iuan ajakatl niman tlapajtsia
Iuaxka on tlakatsintle uan nomaxtsia totlajtoltsin
niman maske amo iuan onemiko
aman kitlasojtla niman kimate no intlajtol
On tlakamej uan kitemouaj tlamachilistle ipan okse
tlaltipaktle noso uan itechkopa kixtsia se inueye amaj
On tlakamej uan amo pinauej kiteijliskej kanon ualeuaj
niman kueyechiuaj totajtoltsin ipan iluimej
On youejkajkej nauatlajtojkej
uan kiyolchikauaj totlajtol niman mojmostla
kiyolitsiaj niman kueiliaj ipan in tlaltipaktle
Uan kijkuiloua totlajtoltsin maske san ken uele
pero tlajkuilouaj, tlajkuilouaj niman tlajkuilouaj

To Whom Does Language Belong?

My language is an umbilical cord made out of water and wind
Its owners are the men of totomoxtle
And the women’s flower that sows dreams
Those who eat away at others with their tongue
The man who tears apart and kills himself
The false sorcerer that eats the meat of others
The healing jaguar that talks with illness and cures
Those who seize the song of the word
Those who get to possess the syllables from outside
And assimilate them as part of themselves
Those who search other universes
Those who pursue a title through language
Those who don’t refuse the root
And transform the tongue into a celebration
Those Nahuatl speakers
Who worship the heart of the language
Who harden it and give life on the land
Those who write without aesthetic purpose
But write, write, and write

Translated from Spanish to English by Amanda Guzman-Lorenzo

In tonajle

In tonajle
niknekisia nitlachas nikoxtok ipan se kojtsintle uan noyej pitsauak
niknekisia nikinajuachtsotsolos noche aokoxalimej
nikakis kenejke yolik nomakaua achipinalistle ipan se okualkan
nikitas kenejke tonalmeyotsitsintin yolik kuastiuej on ajuaxtle
nikinpetlauas nomastlakapaluan ikuatipan neyajmankayotl
ninejnemis ikuatipan tepemej niman kalpantin kan sa xinej
balas
nikxotlaltis se velita inkuatipan on kokonej uan kinajmanchiua kanon
chantiskej
nikintlajtlatas niman nikinuejuetskilis on tlakamej uan xtetlakaitaj
niman tlaxtekinej
inka ninokayauas on tlakamej uan kechka ueye tonajle xkauaj
televisión nin incelular
nitlachas amo nitlauanke niman nitsajtsis chikauak kampa
tochikaualis xtouaxka
kampa kuak tajuamej xetinemiyaj ochantik toueyenantsin uan
komalnemakaya
ochantik se totataj uan techtlakanonotsaya ika se cinturón
se totioj tlauanke niman pokine uan xkaman otechkauilej no ijkon
matikchiuakan

In tonajle
nikneke oksejpa nikintlachaltis noche noneluayouan
ninomaxtis noche tlin kichiua se kojyo niman tsikatsitsintin
niueles nitlajtlajtos ika tetlajkauiliomej niman kiyajtsintle
nias niman oksejpa niuajlas ipan in xkuajle kauitl kan nichantitok
nikinyolitis yankuikej ijtotijkej niman xochiyektin uetskaliomej
nikinnakasuejuelos tokniuan uan nakastapaltikej
niman inmixpan niktlikuiltis se ueye tlitl
kampa melauak xkitaj tlinon nochijtok ipan ojtle
nikinmakauas yeualchichimej para makinkuakan noche tlakajkayajkej
nikintlapos kuentin kampa kokonej ueliskej kintokaskej papalomej
niman kampa tokojkoluan ueliskej kitlapaluiskej tlinon okichijkej
Ninokuikatis ika yankuikej tlakuikaltin uan sa tsopelikej itlajtoluan
niman kuajle nikimijtsomas totlanemililuan imixpan noche tokniuan

This Day

This day
I would like to wake up on the tree’s tiniest branch
to strip the dew adhered to each ocote’s leaf
to record the sound of a water drop at the time of detaching
and look how the sunlight devours the humidity every morning
to spread my wings above the sorrow
to walk around mountains and villages that are afflicted by bullets
to light a candle on the head of every boy
to watch and laugh in the face of corrupted and unjust men.
to make jokes about those who live on television and cellphones
to awake sober and say life does not belong to us
because before us lived a grandmother who sold comales
a decent father with a belt in his hand
a drunk stoner uncle who prohibited all sins. 

This day
I want to resuscitate my roots in the past
to recover the lessons of the forest and the ants
to communicate through the echoes and the rain
to return to the present and defy cruelty
to create new dances and genuine laughter
to drill the ears of the deaf
to turn on the fire in the eyes of so many brothers
who ignore the violence of their daily life
to unleash the nocturnal dogs that devour the politicians
to open the grooves where children can sow butterflies
and grandfathers paint their memories of good men
to sing songs with sweetness in their lyrics
and heal thoughts in front of everyone’s eyes.

Translated from Spanish to English by Isabel Cortese and Christian Elguera
The translations of these poems were completed in classes taught by Professor Christian Elguera Olortegui at Marist University.

Photo: Erik, Unsplash.

Amanda Izel Guzman-Lorenzo is a sophomore at Marist University. She is undeclared but hopes to major in Political Science with a minor in Global Studies. Born and raised on Long Island, New York. Amanda learned English in school and spoke Spanish at home. Spanish helps her stay connected to her roots in Mexico. She recognizes the significance of being bilingual in America and hopes to help others in the future.

Isabel Cortese is a sophomore at Marist University. She is working towards her B.A. in Communications with a concentration in Advertising and has a minor in Studio Art. Her grandparents were a strong Hispanic influence on her and taught her much of their culture as she grew up. Now, she hopes to continue her heritage and learn Spanish to connect with her family.