Viser opslag med etiketten Cantares Mexicanos. Vis alle opslag
Viser opslag med etiketten Cantares Mexicanos. Vis alle opslag

onsdag den 25. maj 2016

Nahuatl one-word poems - guestblog by Ben Leeming


I am very happy to present a guestblog by Ben Leeming, a Nahuatl scholar who works mostly on Christian religious texts in colonial Nahuatl. He recently published an article on "Nahuatl Micro Poetry", in which he argues that the grammatical structure of Nahuatl and the ability to make very long words, enabled Nahua poets to create one-word poems: a single long word with the sense of aesthetics and wonder and the complex structure of an entire poem. These "hypertrophic" words, would probably not have been used in normal spoken conversation, but since they follow the grammatical rules of the language, poets could exploit the grammar to "unfurl" words for their listeners. Here Ben summarizes of his article as a blog post: 

 ‘Micro poetry’: One-word poems
drawn from colonial Nahuatl texts


by

Ben Leeming


Nahua Poetry:

When Europeans first came into contact with Aztec (Nahua) civilization in the early 16th century, they found a rich and ancient tradition of verbal art that in certain ways approximated western notions of poetry. For example, the genre referred to as cuicatl (lit. “song”) was rich in metaphorical language, often involved the repetition of words and phrases, and was organized into lines and verses. Franciscans like fray Bernardino de Sahagún, who was among the first European observers to appreciate the poetry of the Nahuas, wrote down examples that today are preserved in texts like the Primeros memoriales. However, literate Nahuas also continued to compose traditional cuicatl, much of it contained in the anonymous texts known as the Cantares Mexicanos and the Romances de los señores de la nueva españa. All three of these texts exist in modern translations and make very worthwhile reading; see the list of sources at the end of this post for more information. To get a feel for Nahuatl poetry, here are a few verses from the Romances text:

Your flowers blossom as bracelets, swelling as jades, the petals abounding, they lie in our hands. These fragrant plume flowers are our adornment, you princes. Aya! We only borrow them on earth.

Let the popcorn flowers, the raven flowers be scattered, and fragrant plume flowers lie in our hands. They are our adornment, you princes. Aya! We only borrow them on earth.

I, Tizahuatzin, am grieving here. Where are we to go? To His home! There can be no coming back, there can be no return. We go away forever. Beyond is where we go.

Let these flowers, these songs be carried from his home. And would that I might go away adorned. Gold raven flowers, plume popcorn flowers lie in our hands. There can be no return. We go away forever. Beyond is where we go.
  [Bierhorst 2009:131]

I’ve long been fascinated by the religious writing of early colonial Nahuas. Trained in alphabetic literacy by the Franciscans, Dominicans, and Augustinians, Nahuas enthusiastically embraced reading and writing in Spanish, Latin, and their language of birth, Nahuatl. Certain members of this cohort assisted the friars in composing religious texts in their native tongue, some which were translated from Spanish or Latin, others that were composed from scratch in the scriptoria of the various monastic houses. One of the cherished cultural forms that Nahua writers sought to incorporate into their Christian writing was characteristic traits of pre-Hispanic Nahuatl poetry. The friars supported this, at least in theory, since it lent an air of authenticity and prestige to the Christian message. One of the foremost hallmarks of Nahuatl poetry was the frequent use of couplets – pairs of words that together embellished the idea being communicated. Sometimes this pair of words could take on a third, metaphorical meaning, a kind of “semantic couplet” that is often referred to as a difrasismo. For example, the pairing of the words in xochitl and in cuicatl (“flower” and “song”) signified poetry. Other well-known difrasismos include: in atl in tepetl (“water, hill” rendering “town”), in teoatl in tlachinolli (“ocean, burned field” rendering “war”), and in cueitl in huipilli (“skirt, blouse” rendering “woman”). As is seen in the verses from the Romances text above, Nahuatl poetry often employs “vocables” (words without meaning, like Aya!) and refrains (“We only borrow them on earth”). Finally, Nahuatl poetry tends to draw on imagery from the “flower world” complex – iridescent tropical birds, reflective metals, brightly colored flowers, and all their associated sensory components – sounds, sights, and smells. To Nahuas, these were manifestations of teotl, the all-pervading power that animated all living (and some un-living) things.

The friars sought to carefully supervise all writing by native people, fearing the transmission of ideas deemed “diabolical” from indigenous cultures into the “one true faith” they had brought. But the act of translation is far more complicated than merely finding equivalences between two languages. Translating Christian concepts into indigenous tongues necessarily shaped and molded those concepts by virtue of the “stickiness” of language. For example, when friars sought an equivalent Nahuatl word for “God” they chose teotl. On one level this fit because it was one of the words Nahuas had used to refer to their deities. However, how does one “unstick” indigenous understandings of the divine from the word teotl and stick on to it a new, Christian one? One strategy they employed was to modify the word teotl with the Spanish word “Dios.” Teotl Dios was a way of saying, “the Christian teotl.” However, it proved very difficult – at least for quite a long time – to unstick the old meanings and attach new ones. Nahua Christianities (many regional varieties resulted from the translation project) tended to borrow heavily from new and old in an effort to make the new faith work within native cultural frameworks that had developed over millennia.

Megawords and Micropoetry:

Nahua writers could get very creative with their use of language, whether it be in their incorporation of difrasismos and other metaphorical expressions or their use of the “flower world” imagery described above. Although it wasn’t always true, generally speaking the less ecclesiastical supervision a writer was under the more creative his writing would become. In my work with colonial Nahuatl texts I am drawn to such texts, for they often contain bursts of creativity that might otherwise have been squelched by critical friars. Some native writers of religious texts displayed remarkable linguistic ingenuity in their effort to elevate the tone of their compositions and express their devotion to the saints, Mary, and Christ. Here’s a example of very florid devotional writing by a Nahua who penned these lines in a prayer of praise to the Virgin Mary:

You, oh vessel of jade-green water, from you will flow forth, will drip forth the heavenly jade-green water of life, so that with utterly good water all the world will be watered, so that in a sacred way will germinate, will sprout that which was frozen with the ice of sin. Oh, may you rejoice, oh Saint Mary, oh pure and forever maidenly flower…you are the finely emblazoned jade-green water vessel. [Burkhart 2001:55]

Notice in this example the author’s use of couplets (“will flow forth, will drip forth” and “will germinate, will sprout”) as well as the reference to “jade-green” water, jade being a precious greenstone associated with the shimmering phenomena of the flower world. One additional way this writer displays his skill and devotion is by composing words of exceptional length. In the short passage above there are two of these: “oh pure and forever maidenly flower” and “you are the finely emblazoned jade-green water vessel.” Yes, these are single words. Here they are in their Nahuatl form:

chipahualizcemihcacaichpochxochitzintle
(“oh pure and forever maidenly flower”)

tiyecchalchiuhmatlalaacaxmachiotiltzintli
(“you are the finely emblazoned jade-green water vessel”)

Nahuatl is what is called an “agglutinative” language, which means that it forms words by adding prefixes and suffixes onto word stems. Each prefix and suffix adds more material to the stem, to the point where these words can function as entire sentences, as seen in the second example above. Nahua authors like those who composed these words pushed the limits of Nahuatl’s agglutinating nature, building words that could stretch to extreme lengths. Once I noticed this phenomenon, I became fascinated, both by the complexity of these words and by their obvious poetic value. When I studied them closely I made a startling discovery. Within the boundaries of certain of these words I observed the very characteristics of Nahuatl poetry that were common in entire lines and verses. After accumulating a database of examples and breaking each one down into its constituent parts, it became clear to me that what I was seeing were tiny, single-word poems – ‘micro poetry’ of astonishing beauty.

In order to explain how these words can be analyzed as poems, I will next share a few examples from my database. For each example I have first presented the word in Nahuatl followed by the translation of the publishing author. Then, I have presented the word again in two columns. The left-hand column presents the word broken into its individual parts and arranged vertically. Directly across from it is a more literal translation of each part. Finally, I offer a short commentary about each example.

Ex. 1:   tonecuiltonolnetlamachtiliztlahtocatzin
“our ruler of prosperity and happiness” (Burkhart translation)

to                                                         our
necuiltonol                                           prosperity
            netlamachtiliz                                      richness/happiness
tlahtohcatzin                                        ruler

This first Nahuatl micro-poem comes from an anonymous manuscript containing a variety of miscellaneous Christian texts of a devotional nature. Likely penned by a Nahua early in the seventeenth century, it forms part of a prayer to the Virgin Mary and refers to her son, Jesus Christ. My presentation above shows that the author has embedded a pair of noun stems within the boundaries of this lengthy word, forming an embedded couplet. Although these two words are nouns, when compounded in this manner they modify the primary noun (tlahtohcatzin) and take on an adjectival function, describing what kind of ruler Christ is. As I’ve already stated, the couplet is one of the most characteristic features of Nahuatl poetry. However, not all couplets were created equal. To enhance the beauty of such a pairing, the author of this word crafted a couplet with a strong parallel structure. By choosing noun stems that both begin with the prefix ne he formed a couplet that would have sounded especially pleasing to the Nahua ear. What I find so remarkable about this example is that we see the same propensity to form pairs here within single words as we see at the level of entire verses.

Ex. 2    tiquetzalçacuaxiuhquecholhuihuicomacan
“let's make troupial-and-turquiose swan plumes twirl” (Bierhorst translation)

            ti                                                          Let us [like]
                        quetzal                                                 quetzals
                        zaquan                                                 troupials
                        xiuhquechol                                         motmots
            hui                                                       climb up…
                 huicomacan                                                  …and up

This beautiful word (keep in mind: this is one word!) comes from one of the most important sources of colonial Nahuatl poetry, the so-called Cantares mexicanos. My presentation suggests that Bierhorst (a brilliant translator) may have missed the internal structuring of this word. Notice how his translation treats “troupial” and “turquoise swan” as types of feathers. However, “quetzal” can refer both to feathers and the bird that bears this name. Since troupials, “turquoise swans” (a species of motmot) and quetzals are all species of brightly-colored tropical birds common to flower world complex of poetic imagery, it seems to me far more likely that the author included the three as an embedded triplet modifying the verb huihuicomacan. The directional thrust of this verb (a command form of huicoma, “to climb”) is spiraling, upward motion. Based on the larger context of the verse in which this word-poem appears, I believe the composer was likening the spiraling flight of brightly colored birds with the rising of one’s spirit in song to God. This is a spectacular example of the melding of Christian practices with indigenous art forms, a phenomenon well documented in longer texts and here shown to operate at the level of single words.

Ex. 3    onquetzalchalchiuhtlapitzalicaoacatiaque 
“They went chirping like flutes of quetzal-green jade” (Burkhart translation)

on                                                                                            icahuacatiaque
                                    quetzal           ¯\
                                                                  >        tlapitzal                                   
                                    chalchiuh      _/
                                   
            they went                                                                                chirping
                                                quetzal feather
                                                                                    flute
                                                green stone

This beautiful word-poem appears in fray Bernardino de Sahagún’s cycle of songs composed for the feast of the Nativity and describes the sounds made by the angels attending Christ’s birth. I have formatted  my presentation of this word horizontally so as to better highlight its complex internal structure. The opening bracket is formed by Nahuatl’s outbound directional prefix on-, essentially a prefix that indicates the action is moving away from the speaker or subject. The closing bracket, the word being modified, is the verb icahuacatiaque “they went chirping.” Within these brackets the author has embedded three stems: quetzal- (“quetzal feather”), chalchiuh- (“green stone or jade”), and tlapitzal- (“flute”).  At first I was inclined to see these stems as forming an embedded triplet. However, there’s something more complicated going on here. Rather than all serving the same function, the embedded stems modify the verb icahuacatiaque at two different levels. The first level is represented by tlapitzal- (“flute”) which modifies the verb, basically saying that the angels “went chirping like flutes.” However, modifying this modifier is an embedded couplet,  quetzal- and chalchiuh-, which describes the appearance of the flute. However, this is no ordinary couplet. In fact, it is a difrasismo the metaphorical meaning of which is maize leaves or rain drops. In its pre-Hispanic usage this difrasismo alluded to the rain deity Tlaloc, a surprising reference in light of the Christian context of its use here! So far this is the only difrasismo I have identified within the confines of a single word poem. Given the centrality of this particular kind of couplet in Nahuatl poetry it stands as a striking example of the permeation of certain poetic features down to the smallest level.

Additional examples:
The examples below come from the database of single-word Nahuatl poems that I have collected over the years. Some of them contain clear evidence of the kind of internal poetic structuring demonstrated in the two examples above; others yield less easily to such analysis. However, all of them are shining examples of the sort of linguistic creativity exercised by early colonial Nahua writers. As single word poems, I find them exquisitely beautiful.

a.       teucuitlaquetzalaoachpixauhtoc         
trans: “A golden quetzal-colored dew formed drops” (Anderson translation)         

b.      tiquetzalçacuaxiuhquecholhuihuicomacan
“let us like quetzals, troupials and motmots climb up and up” (my translation)        

c.       celticachipahuacateoyoticaxochitzintle
trans: “O fresh and pure one who is in a sacred way a flower” (Burkhart translation)

d.      Nicchalchiuhcozcamecaquemmachtohtoma
“I gently unfurl [my song] as a precious green-stone string of beads” (my translation)

e.       tixochicitlalcuecuepocatimani
“you are bursting into bloom all over with stars like flowers” (Burkhart & Sell trans.)

f.       itlaçomahuizÇenquiscatlaçomahuizqualtilispepetlaquilisXayacatzin (Burkhart trans.)
“[his] precious, wondrous, utterly precious, wondrous, good, and shining face”
(note: This could be the longest word ever composed in colonial Nahuatl. It’s certainly the longest in my database.)

Conclusion:

What sense are we to make of this phenomenon? As for why certain Nahua authors composed such lengthy words, it’s important to note that not all of them did. For example, the massively long word above is, at its root, simply ixayaca “his face.” In the hands of some authors this might have remained in this short form, or perhaps ixayacatzin “his face” in reverential form. But given the ease with which Nahuatl could incorporate stems to form more complex constructions, this word could just as easily have grown to itlazohxayacatzin (“his precious face”), or even itlazohmahuizxayacatzin (“his precious, marvelous face”). Authors who chose to grow their words to extreme lengths probably did so as a way to demonstrate both their linguistic skill (their “chops,” as it were), but owing to the fact that these examples come almost exclusively from Christian devotional texts, also as a way of demonstrating their piety and devotion. I see these examples of Nahuatl word poetry as evidence of the persistence of pre-Hispanic oral tradition in the early colonial period. That age-old tradition prized the kind of spontaneous, improvisational, linguistic ebullience that I see preserved in the examples shared here. Singers of cuicatl were praised for “unfurling their songs,” performing in xochitl in cuicatl for their audience who likened their speech to “green-stone strings of beads” or the spiraling, upward motion of quetzals, troupials, and motmots. That native authors continued to “unfurl their songs” into the early contact period is no surprise, and to gaze on the fruits of their linguistic labors is one of the things I cherish most about working with colonial Nahuatl texts.  

Note: Readers who are interested in exploring Nahuatl “micro-poetry’ in greater detail should consult the article I published in Colonial Latin American Review, 24:2, pp. 168-189 (2015) titled “‘Micropoetics’: The poetry of hypertrophic words in early colonial Nahuatl.” 


References:


Nahuatl poetry in modern editions

Bierhorst, John, trans.  1985.  Cantares Mexicanos: Songs of the Aztecs. Stanford: Stanford
University Press.

___. 2009.  Ballads of the Lords of New Spain. Austin: University of Texas Press.

Garibay, Ángel María.  1964.  Poesía Náhuatl.  Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma
de México.

Sullivan, T.D. and Nicholson, H.B., eds. 1997. Primeros Memoriales by fray Bernardino de
Sahagún: Paleography of Nahuatl Text and English Translation. University of Oklahoma Press.

Christian texts that incorporate aspects of Nahuatl poetry

Burkhart, Louise  M.  1992.  “Flowery Heaven: The Aesthetic of Paradise in Nahuatl Devotional
Literature.”  RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics, 21:88-109.

_____.  2001.  Before Guadalupe.  Albany: Institute for Mesoamerican Studies.

Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1993 [1583].  Psalmodia Christiana, translated by Arthur J.O.
Anderson.  Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.

Sell, Barry D. and Louise M. Burkhart, eds.  2004.   Nahuatl Theater, Vol. 1. University of

Oklahoma Press.

lørdag den 6. september 2014

Xochicuicatl Cuecuechtli – the first contemporary opera in Nahuatl: A Review


Having just returned from the first performance of Xochicuicatl Cuecuechtli – billed as the first contemporary Opera with a libretto in Nahuatl, composed and directed by Gabriel Pareyón – I had to make this the topic of this blog post which will take the form of a review. [Edited: In fact it turns out that in 2005 the Opera "La Conquista" by Lorenzo Ferrero, premiered in Prague. Its libretto was partly in Nahuatl, written by the Nahuatl specialist Frances Karttunen. Thanks to Dr. Karttunen, for pointing this out to me!]

First a little background: The opera is written by Gabriel Pareyón, a Mexican polymath who works both as a composer, a musicologist, a linguist and a semiotician. He has previously written pieces of contemporary music with long titles in Otomí some of which can be heard on youtube, but this seems to be his first work featuring Nahuatl. In the program Pareyón describes that the work is part of a research project on how to understand indigenous musical traditions of Mexico, and give life to an aesthetic vision that harks back to Mesoamerica before European contact.

The libretto is based on one of the Cantares Mexicanos, which is a collection of songs in Nahuatl, written sometime in the 16th century. The text are considered by most Nahuatl specialists to be among the most intrigueing texts written in colonial Nahuatl, and among the most challenging. The particular songtype is what in Nahuatl is called a Cuecuechcuicatl, which John Bierhorst translates into English as “Ribald Flowersong” and philosopher and Nahuatl scholar Patrick Johansson translates as “Canto florido de travesuras” (flowery song of naughtiness). Based on descriptions of the songtype in ethnohistorical sources which describe it as being sexually inappropriate for a good Christian audience, Johansson reinterprets the flower and nature images of the song as sexual metaphors. This interpretation forms the basis of Pareyón's work which is built around an erotic theme.

The music is written for an ensemble of instruments of types known to have been used by pre-contact Mesoamerican musicians (this kind of music is increasingly beoming known as pre-cuauhtemic music in Mexico, alluding to Cuauhtemoc the last independent ruler of Mexihco-Tenochtitlan). These instruments include large standing drums (huehuetl) and smaller lying slit-drums (teponaztli), as well as other percussion instruments and different types of flutes and conch trumpets. The music is written for and performed by the pre-cuauhtemic ensemble Kuauhkiyahuitzintli/Lluvia de Palos led by percussionist José Navarro.

The plot of the work, created by Pareyón based on the song, evolves around an erotic relation between a Huastec by the name Tohuenyo (performed by Ricardo Diaz Mendoza, known from Mel Gibson's Apocalypto), three ahuianimeh “pleasure girls”(performed by Silvia Moreno, Abril Mondragon and Priscella Uvalle) and a cuicamatini “knower of songs” (performed by César Juarez-Joyner) who at the end of the work turns into the Aztec god of sexual debauchery Xochipilli.

Unfortunately I missed the conference that was given by the composer and several Nahuatl specialists, including Patrick Johansson before the performance, and I arrived to take my seat just before the curtain went up.

It was not the first time that I had heard pre-cuauhtemic music, but I was very surprised at the enormous range of expressivity that Lluvia de Palos were able to create with their limited means. In spite of clearly being in the genre of “contemporary” compositional music, the sound was not easily associated with any specific place or time in the world. At times it was reminiscent of Japanese music, as I know it from Kurosawa movies, or of balinese gong music. But at other times it sounded like nothing I had ever heard before. In a good way. I particularly liked the part where the three Ahuianime use the metates (grindstones for grinding corn) as musical instruments, the sound of stone grinding against stone creating a rich texture with the wooden sounds of the slit drums.

The singing was something else. In an interview given to the diariodigital, Pareyón explained that he had worked consciously to try to arrive at a singing style that was not based on European singing. In the same interview Enid Negrete, coordinator and scenographer stated that “The Nahuatl language gave opportunity to, provoked and required a different vocal technique, completely distinct from the European technique which is based on articulation rather than embodiment, and which is also used in order to make sure the Nahuatl is intelligible and retains its intonation.” The vocal technique was definitely very different from any European technique (and also from any non-European technique I have heard). The technique involved singing in a high-pitched highly glottalized (what linguists would call “creaky voice”) register, where the voice frequently breaks into falsetto. It was at times difficult to distinguish the composition from the vocal technique. The singers seemed to repeat a small number of melodic figures most of them based on a rising falling melodic contour, with different accentuations and phrasings, chopping them up into staccatos with strong accent on each syllable, breaking into violent falsettos on the high point of the phrase, or glottalizing the descending phrase into a fading shriek. The goal of creating a completely distinct vocal aesthetic was certainly achieved. The other goal of making a technique suited for Nahuatl I think was less well achieved. I was able to hear quite a bit of the libretto and recognize parts of the poem, which were repeated in the voices of the different singers. But many times I was unable to hear what was being sung at all – perhaps this is a result of the technique being focused on embodiment rather than on articulation, and I certainly also cant always hear what is being sung in a European opera, so that may not be so big of a deal. But also the intonation of the language was completely changed, a lot of the times the speech rhytm was weirdly staccato sounding like no variety of Nahuatl I have ever heard, and frequently stress was placed on syllables where they would never occur in spoken Nahuatl. Overall the delivery of the language came across to me as extremely artificial and unnatural (in a not good way). 

I think I understand the choice of this strange vocal aesthetics – simply because using any singing style that could be identified as “European” would have clearly marked the attempt to attain a truly “autochtonous” aesthetics as half-assed an hypocritical. But on the other hand I have a hard time believing that the style though very “foreign” and unknown was in fact a closer approximation of how pre-cuauhtemic singing sounded like. In me, the choice of vocal technique produced a very strong verfremdungseffekt, that provoked me to think critically about the whole project and the way it depicted the indigenous people as completely exotic (and savagely erotic) others. This made me ask myself the question whether the pursuit of the aesthetic other of European music in an imagined pre-cuauhtemic Mesoamerica does not easily turn into a kind of “occidentalism”.

Another aspect that bugged me a bit regarding the treatment of the language was the fact that the Nahuatl libretto was nowhere represented in writing – neither in the program nor in the running light titles above the stage. Anyone who was not able to understand the sung Nahuatl (I would estimate that would be about 98% of the audience) only had acces to the “supertitles” in Spanish above the stage. The “supertitles” also written by Pareyón, had a very indirect relation to what was actually being sung in Nahuatl. At times the titles approximated Johanssons translation, but at other times it deviated completely from the Nahuatl words, creating dialogue between the characters, or adding sexual innuendo such as “we women do not subsist on corn and beans alone, we also need chili” or “I erect my flowery pole” neither of which was present in the sung words. The supertitle in that way was more of a guide to the plot, and an representation of the composers interpretation of the poem than an actual translation of the sung text. This made the Nahuatl text stand alone isolated from the meaning of the plot, and to me gave the impression that the language was only an instrument to achieve an aesthetic effect, but not meant to be a language of actual communication. Kind of like a meaningless soundscape, that the Spanish supertitles then inscribed meaning onto. So is this cultural translation or is it colonizing and erasing the Nahuatl text and the voice of the Nahuas who wrote it?

While this performance was the official premiere, the opera had in fact already been performed for an audience of Nahua people in Arcelia, Guerrero. This was done, according to the composer, in order to show indigenous people that also non-native speakers can use the Nahuatl language. It does seem that  other than this, no native speakers were directly involved in the production. Sometimes it is difficult to be sure when the usage of cultural signs across cultural borders are demonstrations of friendship and brotherhood and when they are appropriations. Here a few hours after having seen the performance, I still havent settled on one of those two interpretations.

I'll finish by giving some examples of different translations of the first stanza of the poem, as you will see hey are quite different:

Hue nache niehco. Ya nihuehuetzcatihuitz.
Ye nixcuecuech, Aya, xochitl in ye nocuic.
Momamalina zan ic ya totoma, ho Ohuaya, nicalle.
Ye ompa nihuitz xochitl iztac ihcacan,
anca ye mochan in quiquizcalihtic
in amoxtonaticac, Ohuaya, nicalle.

Hey Brother! I'm arriving. I come laughing. I'm a leering ribald! My songs, these flowers, They are whirling and I set them free.
I come from where white flowers stand. And now it seems these pictures stand up shining in your home
this trumpet house. (Bierhorst 1985:369)
Mi gran jefe, llego: yo vengo a reír. / My great chief, I arrive, I come to laugh
Soy cara traviesa, flor es mi canción./  
I am a naughty face, flower is my song
Se va tramando y luego se despliega. ¡Ah, soy el casero! / 
It goes weaving and then unfolds. Ah! I am the one who lives here.
Llego a donde la flor blanca está
erguida: / I arrive to where the white flower stands erect:
ésa es tu casa y entre las trompetas / 
This is your house and among the trumpets
tus libros relucen como el Sol. ¡Ah, soy el casero!
/ books shine like the sun. Ah! I am the one who lives here
Á.G. Garibay K. (1955)/ (my translation to English)
Oh gran jefe, llegué, vine a reír./     O great chief, I arrived. I came to laugh.
Soy cara traviesa, aya, esta flor es mi canto. / I am a naughty face, aya, this flower is my song
Se va tramando y luego se despliega. ¡Soy el dueño de la casa! / It goes weaving and then unfolds. I am the owner of the house!
Llegué a donde la flor blanca está erguida: / I arrived at where the white flower stands erect.
ésa es tu casa entre las trompetas / That is your house among the trumpets,
donde se calienta el musgo, ¡soy el dueño de la casa! / Where the moss is warm. I am the owner of the house.
 
 P. Johansson (2002)/ My translation into English