Nezahualcoyotl's Flower Songs

Words’ blood tongued from secret wounds;

Born for that war, he stood alone

In the zoological garden he had made,

As plants and animals

Took him as their totem.

Texcoco had become his academy of art,

Blessed by the Toltecs and Quetzalcoatl;

A new spirit was smoking

Among the volcanoes and lakes.

Gorged on holy poisons,

The mushrooms’ bitter genius, he flew

Into frenzies,as the gods twisted his bones

With glee,and crowned him hero,

Devourer of all enemies, king of time.

Now he had a name, and could name.

History was all before him,simultaneous,

Synonyms and metonyms interconnecting,

Too many jaguar voices in the night,

The hand drums throbbing through.

Mankind was living and dying

To the tremolo of a clay flute.

By day warriors and harlots danced together

In the House of Song beside the temple;

In the evening,schoolchildren assembled there

To learn the art of music.

At the Feast of Flowers, Hungry Coyote

Stood and chanted, as gods and goddesses

Danced merrily in their finery,flower-crowned,

Before Xochiquetzalli high on her throne,

Among the artificial trees and grottoes,

While lads and lasses costumed as birds

And butterflies romped in the branches...

He sang of heroes and hunters and lovers,

Of pleasures soon ended,and friends long gone.