Translator’s note: Feliciano Sánchez Chan is among a growing group of poets (including Briceida Cuevas Cob and Isaac Carrillo Can) writing modern verse in the ancient language of Mayan. The Mayan language is by no means dead. It is spoken, in one form or another, by an estimated six million people in Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, and Honduras. There has been a recent resurgence of literary writing among the Maya after many years of neglect resulting from the hegemony of the Spanish language. Feliciano was born in the village of Xaya in southern Yucatan, Mexico, and works for the Department of Popular Culture for the state of Yucatan. His work draws heavily on Maya folklore, myths, and legends. These are not legends from a civilization that has “mysteriously disappeared,” however, but the folklore, traditions, and beliefs of Maya people living in present-day Yucatan, Mexico. I have lived on and off in Mexico since 1983, and in 2002 bought and renovated a centuries-old hacienda in Yucatan, where I live permanently, writing and translating. My neighbors, friends, and day-by-day associates are Maya. Their first language is Yucatec Mayan. I first met Feliciano Sánchez Chan at Café Poesía in Mérida, Yucatan, where he was the invited reader. From the moment I heard him read these poems from his book Ukp’eel wayak / Siete Sueños (Seven dreams), I knew I wanted to translate them. They are sensual, highly evocative, and very much concerned with nature and the world of the spirit.
– Jonathan Harrington
First Dream (The Beginning)
I am the Sacred Ceiba Tree (the Kapok)
from which your children will dangle like fruit,
Mother,
if you claim them
before their seeds ripen.
I am the vertebra that unites
the thirteen canopies of heaven
and the nine levels of the underworld
where the spirits travel.
I am the breasts of your daughter,
Mother,
where the old man nurses,
his long gray hair spilling over
the four directions of the universe,
as he walks nude
through the heavens
clothed
by your tears.
You entrust to me
the lives of your children,
Mother,
on my trunk you see
their footprints.
I am the Ceiba,
I am the Sacred One.
Yáax Wayak’ (U káajbal)Teen le kili’ich X-ya’ache’ Teen a baakel nupik Teen u yiim a x-lóo’bayan aal Ti’ teen a k’ubeetmaj
|
Sueño Primero (El origen)Soy la Ceiba Sagrada Soy la vértebra que une Soy los senos de tu hija, A mí encomendaste |
Second Dream (The Word)
I am the conch
my voice born of the sea
that speaks through your children,
Mother.
My singing travels throughout the world
opening new trails.
I have penetrated the labyrinths of caves
so that the old gods
write on my lips
the word that the dove
spills out over the world
on moonlit mornings.
I am the first voice that gathers together the echoes
planted yesterday along antique roads.
I am the ancient word that is only spoken
after midnight
if your son does not return from the jungle.
I am the conch of long past echoes
that you have recorded with your voice,
Mother,
I am the conch.
Ka’a Wayak’ (T’aan)Teen le jub In k’aaye’ ku jolch’aktik Teen le yáax t’aan Teen le jub úuchben u éets’nak’
|
Sueño Segundo (La Palabra)Soy el caracol Mi canto recorre el mundo Soy el caracol de ecos antiguos |
Third Dream (Life)
I have come from the underworld, Xibalba,
to visit
your shrine, Mother.
I am the anointed gust of wind
that springs from your womb
which lives and dies here
day by day
over the face of the earth.
You gave me, Mother,
the icon of a deer of royal lineage.
That is why I fly over your face
so I will not wound you
with my footsteps.
For an eye you gave me
a precious gem.
I am born of your womb of corn
from which you feed
my children.
The gust with which you overwhelm
my nostrils
flew away like a
nocturnal hummingbird.
In this way I am born and I die
every day.
I find myself linked
to your eternal shadow.
I am from corn, your child of corn,
corn is my flesh, corn you are Mother.
Yóoxp’éel Wayak’ (Kuxtal)Taaliken tak Xibalba Juntúul Siipil Kéej Sijnalen ta j-ixi’im jobnel |
Sueño Tercero (La vida)He venido desde Xibalbá Soy nacido de tu vientre maíz
|
Fourth Dream (The Light)
I am the thunder that has come
with its light
of eternal profundities
to illuminate the Sak Be, the White Road
where your children travel, Mother.
I am the bolt that invented light
to announce to mankind
the fall
of your tears of corn,
the Sacred Grain that sustains my brothers and sisters.
Lord Fire
is my older brother.
Today I have come
with my four sisters:
the Rain from the East,
the Rain from the West,
the Rain from the North,
the Rain from the South.
I am, Mother,
the most willing of your sons,
I walk the world
without leaving footprints
only lives reflect my presence
from day to day
only my memories remain
and the hope
for what still needs to be done.
I am the Light, I am the Light,
I am the Light.
Kamp’éel Wayak’ (Sáasil)Teen le kíilbal taalen Teen le kíilbal ta sutaj sáasilil In Noj Suku’un Teen in Na’,
|
Sueño Cuarto (La Luz)Soy el trueno que ha venido Soy el relámpago que hiciste luz El Señor Fuego |
Fifth Dream (The Spirit)
I have flown
so many times
I am a reflection of your own flight,
Mother.
You taught me
to breathe life
into everything that lives
in this world.
I am the spirit of your son
that nurses
from the Mother Ceiba.
Beyond the clouds
I have traced a rainbow.
You have told me,
Mother,
that accompanied by the hummingbird
I can lead to you
those who have lost their lives.
You intentionally made me ageless
so that I might be reborn day by day
with the Father Sun,
I am your spirit,
I am the spirit that gives off light
I am your gleaming spirit
Mother.
Jo’op’éel Wayak’ (Pixan)Ts’o’ok in xik’nal Teen u pixan a waal Teche’ ta wa’alajtene’ in Na’ A wóolili’ ma’ ta ts’áaj in ja’abile’e |
Sueño Quinto (El espíritu)He volado Soy el espíritu de tu hijo Más allá de las nubes Tú me has dicho, A propósito no me diste edad |
Sixth Dream (The Otherness)
I am the hummingbird
that sketches a rainbow in the sky
with the splendor of its flight.
I am your image embroidered
on the Rain,
child of your mirror
seven times transparent
where you do not find me
when you want to
and you see me
when you don’t want to find me.
I am the Sun of autumn
that hurts the eyes
of the white cloud—your daughter—
so that she will cry rain.
Drink, Mother, from my sap,
I will eat your precious grain
so that in me
your son will be engendered.
You will know tomorrow
that the road I choose
is only one step
so that the dream that I create
will bring us
to the place of origin
where you will be my flesh
and I will sustain you.
Wakp’éel Wayak’ (U yaanal)Teen le Ts’unu’un Teen a woochel chuya’an Teen u Yum K’iinil yáaxk’in Uk’ in k’aab in Na’ |
Sueño Sexto (La otredad)Soy el colibrí Soy tu imagen bordado Soy el Sol de otoño Bebe Madre de mi sabia, |
Seventh Dream (The Other Dead)
There are already many, Mother,
already many.
They hang from my branches
at the point of spilling
beneath my shadows
like filth.
You never told me
that the dreams you cultivated
over so much limestone
would become today the suffering
over which I cry.
I am the Sacred Ceiba,
Mother.
The other hands
plant in my entrails
a woman of the night,
a bad woman
who carries off men who cannot sleep.
In this way I know your sons
and those that suckle
abundant milk
from the breasts of your daughters,
they are not my dead,
I do not take them
Aj Puch, ni Ixtab,
other dead that I do not know
sang in my ears.
They are not my death, Mother,
They are not my death.
Ukp’éel Wayak’ (Yaanal kíimilo’ob)Ts’o’ok u máan p’iis in Na, Teche’ mix juntéen ta wa’alajten Teen X-ya’axche’, in Na’. Tene’ in k’aj óol a paalal in Na’ |
Sueño Séptimo (Las otras muertes)Ya son tantas Madre, Tú nunca me dijiste Soy la Ceiba Sagrada, Aun así conozco a tus hijos |
Translations from the Yucatec Mayan & Spanish
By Jonathan Harrington