Ancient Nahuatl Poetry: Containing the Nahuatl Text of XXVII Ancient Mexican Poems

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D. G. Brinton, 1887 - Nahuatl language - 169 pages
 

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Page 45 - All the earth is a grave, and naught escapes it; nothing is so perfect that it does not fall and disappear. The rivers, brooks, fountains and waters flow on, and never return to their joyous beginnings; they hasten on to the vast realms of Tlaloc, and the wider they spread between their marges the more rapidly do they mold their own sepulchral urns.
Page 79 - I lift my voice in wailing, I am afflicted, as I remember that we must leave the beautiful flowers, the noble songs; let us enjoy ourselves for a while, let us sing, for we must depart forever, we are to be destroyed in our dwelling place.
Page 65 - I polished my noble new song like a shining emerald. I arranged it like the voice of the Tzinitzcan bird. ... I set it in order like the chant of the Zacuan bird. I mingled it with the beauty of the emerald, that I might make it appear like a rose bursting its bud.
Page 111 - I cried aloud, I looked about, I reflected how I might see the root of song, that I might plant it here on the earth, and that then it should make my soul to live. The sweet exhalations of the lovely flowers rose up uniting with our flowers; one hears them growing as my song buds forth, filled with my words our flowers stand upright in the waters. But the flowers depart, their sweetness is divided and exhales, the fragrant poyomatl [rose] rains down its leaves where I the poet walk in sadness. Cantarcs...
Page 83 - ... youths, here there are skilled men in the flowers of shields, in the flowers of the pendant eagle plumes, the yellow flowers which they grasp; they pour forth noble songs, noble flowers; they make payment with their blood, with their bare breasts; they seek the bloody field of war. And you, O friends, put on your black paint for war, for the path of victory; let us lay hand on our shields, and raise aloft our strength and courage.
Page 55 - I am wondering where I may gather some pretty, sweet flowers. Whom shall I ask? Suppose that I ask the brilliant humming-bird, the emerald trembler; suppose that I ask the yellow butterfly; they will tell me, they know, where bloom the pretty, sweet flowers, whether I may gather them here in the laurel woods where dwell the tzinitzcan birds, or whether I may gather them in the flowery forests where the tlauquechol lives. There they may be plucked sparkling with dew, there they come forth in perfection....
Page 55 - Truly as I walk along I hear the rocks as it were replying to the sweet songs of the flowers; truly the glittering, chattering water answers, the bird-green fountain, there it sings, it dashes forth, it sings again; the mocking bird answers; perhaps the coyol bird answers, and many sweet singing birds scatter their songs around like music. They bless the earth pouring out their sweet voices. 3. I said, I cried aloud, may I not cause you pain ye beloved ones, who are seated to listen; may the brilliant...

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