Gonzalo Guerrero (1535)

__________________________


In the mountains of Honduras-Higueras

The body of Gonzalo Guerrero

Tattooed the way of the Mayans.

Francisco de Montejo, good

Has prevailed over evil,

Light over darkness.

But what darkness and what light?

Behind the coast and the forests

Of Yucatan

Strong sunsets were burning

Of empty belonging,

Night fell

Full of stars

The sea roared and the forest

Bowed down to its

Destiny.

You, too, Gonzalo,

Bowed down. In the villages

Overwhelming

Your compatriots

Who'd come with you

In search of gold,

In the green forests

Marked by the hurricanes

On the white beaches

Of simple nocturnal light.

Your body changed

At the beat of the drums, the colors,

The sounds of a new language

You made your own.

Your eyes changed,

The way in which your hands,

Used to firearms,

Turned into weapons

Came back to life

At the contact with the bodies

Of Mayan women and men.

And your body

By their hands

Renewed, mutated.

Thus told you the stars, the sky

That was truly burning with stars,

Limits of sovereignty and captivity

The fire of the inquisition

The underground cells

The slaughter of freer peoples.

Since then, the nights, sitting by the fire,

With the drums the voices and the dances,

Disclosed

A new aspect of life.

Nor did the blood braiding

Their long hair,

Then yours,

Hurling against the sky a last

Cry of war,

Frighten your soul.

And, Montejo back to beg you,

You didn't follow him,

To the good, money, and God.

It was then when they found

The body of a Spaniard

In the mountains of Honduras

A body covered with Mayan tattoos

It was then that they ended their contempt,

The fear and the hunt.

Fugitive you'd chosen

A solid and sylvan justice,

Clear in the eyes

Fixed

To the still sky.



(Translated with André Cechinel)

New York, May 2009