Poem of Warriors
None so strong, none so prized
the Eagle in flight,
The Jaguar whose heart is a mountain:
They submit to serve.
The yellow Jaguar weeps.
White Eagle forms a war cry
Through his hands.
These are our beloved Lords…
There was the shaping of Eagles,
of Jaguars—our Lords
There was a plain of battle
Where the Jaguars learned their color,
Where the Eagles swayed.
Takes whom he will …
Song of Warriors
Eagles and Jaguars, into each
While the shield sound, they come together
To the gathering
There will be captives, y yao ay yaha
are scattered, they fall on us,
The flowers of war which are used
To please the giver of life, the Sun.
it is boiling, where everything is upturned,
In the place of war,
Where there is glory and fame to have,
the rattles sound,
Where a cloud of dust opens up; ohuaya ohuaya
The flowered war need never end; it stays
the river: there
The Jaguars as flowers,
The flowers of shields, have opened their petals,
There, in the place where
There is the sweet garden of Jaguars: they will fall
In the midst of the plain.
will pour their fragrance upon us,
On us who wish glory and fame and honors. Ohuaya
The ungrateful flowers, those
flowers of hearts
Have sprung up on the battlefields, at the edge of the fight
Where the Lords find honor and glory.
The shield of Eagles mesh with the standard of Jaguars.
Shields with green Quetzal feathers are given out.
helmets, with gold-colored plumes, moving like a snake,
Shaking there in the boil, and the Chalca and Amaquemecan Warriors
into battle, they who came, together, in great confusion. Ohuaya
With a sharp noise
The arrow broke,
The dust spreads,
Is boiling. Ohuaya ohuaya
Where are you going?
Where are you going? Where are you going?
To war, to the sacred water.
mother, Flying Obsidian,
Dyes men, on the battlefield.
The dust rises
On the pool of flame,
The heart of the god
of Sun is wounded.
Oh Mactlacueye, oh Macuil Malinalli!
War is like a flower.
You are going to hold it in your hands.
Rattles shake the plain
Rattles shake the plain
Where Tlacahuetantzin was left behind:
With yellow flowers
is going to sweeten the realm of death.
You are only hiding in the north,
In Seven Caves,
Where acacia grows,
where the Jaguar howls,
Where the Eagle roars, where everything is made.
You are the Quechol, flame colored,
you fly over the plain,
Through the realm of death.
Homage to Tlacahuepan
With shields, you paint nobility.
arrows, you write battle.
Now, you dress yourself in plumes
And paint your face with chalk for the sacrifice.
You are going to take them with you into the realm
Oh Tlacahuepan, you are over the
You cry out, the Eagle who is red answers you.
Like a dancer, who is to die,
With whistling hands,
at the end, to the realm of mystery.
Your song is like a mottled Jaguar.
Your flower is like the spread wings of
Oh my prince, as a dancer, who is to die,
There is the clash of shields.
How beautifully you play your
Your garland the nobles with flowers of the Eagle,
The gathering of friends, oh dancer, who is to die,
wine of precious flowers makes men drunk and brave
And he will dress himself with his flowers and songs
In the realm
Perhaps the Mexicans are signing there too.
Elegy for Tlacahuepantzin
God of rattlesnakes!
Jaguar, Eagle warriors roar.
The war prince befriends
And favors us. But flowers
There, by the drums,
They are shuddering like women.
The war-dead! In the flowering water
shields and banners raised!
Not by spears or arrows
The precious flower falls.
The flower made of human body
never taint the moss
Of Motecuzuma, will not ever
Sprout again in Mexico.
Smoke-tainted, your red bird of light:
pass, Beloved Lord Tlacahuepan.
Smoke-stained, the god renews him.
God, god tears your flesh away!
desolate my heart,
I see a child
Tremble like a feather
I go to the garden
Where the Lords
each other proud with flowers.
I see a child…
My heart is drunk:
the zacuan bird is singing
Over the shield stockade,
Stockade of spears.
Tlacahuepan, neighbor, friend,
You with your shaven head
Are like one of the Cuexteca people—
Drunk with the flower waters,
By the shore of
With your shaven head.
Jewels, precious feathers,
Those who were drunk
In the plain water,
On the shore—there,
The Mexicans among cactus.
The Eagle screams,
with the Jaguar's face roars,
O Lord Macuil Malinalli;
There in the field of smoke,
Field of red …
right, it is right
The Mexicans make war!
The Lord of the Cuextecas,
skirt now black as the Zapote fruit.
The glory of war clothes my friend
Tlacahuepan—in the mystery
perhaps lives on.
Matlacuiatzin is drunk
With the flower of war, death-yellow
Lord of the Cuextecas,
in the liquid of war.
Together they go
Where one perhaps lives on.
Sound the Jaguar's trumpet!
Eagle on the
There on the carcasses of our dead Lords.
The old men pass, Cuextecas
Drunk with the flower of
In Atlixco they dance!
Sound the turquoise drum.
Cactuses are drunk with fallen flowers;
the Heron head-dress,
You with the painted body.
They hear him, go beside him,
Birds with flower-bright beaks
the strong youth
With the Jaguar shield. He has returned to them.
From my heart, I, Nezahualpilli.
search for my comrades
But the old Lord is gone,
The petal-green Quetzal,
The young warrior
the sky-blue by your dwelling!
Are Tlatohuetzin and Acapipiyol coming
To taste the water here
As I am weeping?
I see the Eagle and the Jaguar warrior.
Their Glory saddens me who will depart
earth, from friendship of warriors.
You fly to us, bird
With a sword in your claw
In your own temple you preen
And sway among the drums.
Rain of down:
Like a sacred Heron you preen
sway among the drums.
You tint the fire
And color the throne of warriors.
My friends, you are Lords
In the springtime
What does Ipalnemoani require of us?
You will not remain long
In this palace. Nezahualpilli,
deserts you. War
Sends up its flowers. Some grow,
Some whither. They are Eagles, Jaguars of War.
Those that whither
back to you,
A march of Warriors
To the region of Death:
Every Lord descended
To live in the face of the Sun.
Now they wander
The endless plain of the dead.
I turn to Simplicity, I turn again to Purity!
¡De nican para tech quixtizque xtopa tech mictizque!
De aquí para poder sacarnos, primero tendrán que matarnos!
Since 1521. Ce-Tekpa Toltekoa. All Materials
are Created and Designed by: Mexican-Jaguar Revolutionary Front©; Mexican-Jaguar Revolutionaries © Formation of the Mexican-Jaguar Military -Lodge(c) The Immortal
and Powerful Mexican-Jaguars©
I Heard Nothing! .... I Saw Nothing!
A.K. MX-JGS 4.7