In 1479 (the year 13-Reed), some men from the towns of
Chalco-Amaquemecan and Tlamanalco went for the first time to sing in
Mexico-Tenochtitlan: the Mexica (Aztecs) held hegemony in the area,
including Chalco. The song they sang was a war song called the “Song of
the Woman Warrior.” They played it for the tlatoani, or ruler, Lord
Axayacatl (ca 1469-1481), performing it in the patio outside his house
of women. Unfortunately, the performance got off to a rather slow start.
A man from the area of Tlamanalco in Chalco, one who had never played
the drums before or directed a song, made a very bad showing
SONG OF THE WOMEN OF CHALCO
Get up, you little sisters,
go, go, look for flowers,
let's go, let's go, we'll cut flowers.
Here they stretch, here they stretch
the flowers of water and fire, the flowers of the shield,
those that seem to men, which are prestige:
flowers of war.
They are beautiful flowers,
With the flowers that are on me, I adorn myself,
They are my flowers, I am one of Chalco, I am a woman!
I wish and wish the flowers,
I wish and desire the songs,
I am with longing, here in the place where we spin,
in the place where our life goes.
I sing your song
I stoy with longing, here in the place where we spin,
in the place where our life goes.
I sing your song,
to the Lord, little Axayácatl,
or interweave with flowers, with them I encircle it.
Like a painting is the beautiful song,
like fragrant flowers that give joy,
my heart esteems them on earth.
What does this all mean?
So I estimate your word,
Companion in the bed, you, little Axayácatl.
With flowers I interweave it, with flowers I surround it,
what unites us I raise, I make him wake up.
So I will give pleasure
to my companion in the bed, to you, little Axayácatl.
He is happy, he is happy,
It turns, it's like fog.
Companion, small companion, you, Mr. Axayácatl.
If you are truly a man, here is where to work,
Will you not continue, will you continue with strength?
Make it stand what makes me a woman,
Then it gets really light up.
Come join, come join:
It is my joy
Give me the little one now,
the stone pylon
that makes birth on earth.
We will laugh, we will be happy,
there will be delight, I will have glory,
but no, no, you still do not deflower,
Comrade, you, sir, little Axayácatl.
I, I am trapped,
my little hand is spinning,
come now, come now.
You want to suck on my breasts,
almost in my heart.
Maybe you will spoil yourself
what is my wealth, you will finish it;
me, with flowers of fiery bird,
for you I will make my belly ring,
here it is:
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