Two Poems

translated by Clare Sullivan

Bidaani’

Ruyadxie’ lii sica ruyadxi guragu’ guibá’,
ribaque chaahue’ lii ndaani’ guiña candanaxhi guiriziña
guidilade’ ruxhele guirá guie’ bizeecabe lu xpidaane’ 
guirá nguiiu ne biulú zanda gueeda chiru ca’ naa yanna gueela’
guenda nayeche’ xtinne’ cadá nisa.
Ora riaa’ sa’ riguyaa’ ne pa guiaba nisaguie 
ladxidó’ guiba’ ribee yaande gadxe
ni rutiee lu xpidaane’ ne guielua’.
Ora guiruche ti guí ria’qui’ guiba’
naa ruxhele’ ruaa’sica guragu’ ne rabe xpele.

Huipil

De cara al cielo como una lagartija,
te acomodo dentro del baúl con olor a ocote
mi piel revienta las flores que dibujaron sobre mi vestido
pueden venir esta noche a pellizcarme hombres y colibríes
mi alegría es néctar que emana.
A bailar voy a las fiestas y si llueve
el corazón del día arroja un arcoiris
sobre mis ojos y mi huipil.
Cuando un rayo cae, quema el cielo, 
entonces abro mi boca de lagartija para beber su fuego.

Huipil

Facing the sky like a lizard,
I settle you in a trunk that smells of pine.
My skin bursts with the flowers etched upon my dress.
Men and hummingbirds can come and pinch me tonight;
my happiness is nectar that flows.
I am going to the fiestas to dance and if it rains
the heart of day will hurl a rainbow
upon my huipil and my eyes.
When lightning falls, the sky burns,
I open my lizard mouth to drink its fire.

Ra ruzulú guidxilayú

Gucanu jlaza diuxi,
guie’, bidxiña ne migu
gucanu yaga gucheza bele,
bacaanda’ ne libana guní’ bixhoze bidanu.
Biabanu ndaani’ gui’xi’
gubidxa bitiidi’ baxa sti’ ladxido’no,
gucanu pumpu ¡au!
gucanu nisa ¡au!.
Yanna nacanu dé biaana
xa’na’ guisu guidxilayú

Origen

Fuimos escama de Dios,
flor, venado y mono.
Fuimos la tea que partió el rayo
y el sueño que contaron nuestros abuelos. 
Caímos en el monte 
y el sol nos atravesó con su flecha,
fuimos cántaro ¡au!,
fuimos agua ¡au!.
Ahora somos ceniza 
bajo la olla del mundo.

Origin

We were scales sluffed from God,
flower, deer, and monkey.
We were the torch that split the lightning bolt
and the dream our grandparents told.
We fell upon the mountain
and the sun ran through us with his arrow,
we were the jug, aooo!
we were the water, aooo!
Now we are ashes
beneath the kettle of the world.

Translations into Spanish 
By the author

Translations into English
By Clare Sullivan

Natalia Toledo was born in a neighborhood of fishermen in Juchitán, Oaxaca, Mexico. Her bilingual poetry anthology Guie’ yaase’ / Olivo negro won the National Indigenous Language Prize in 2004. Her poems and stories have been translated to languages as varied as French, Punjab, and Euskera. 

Clare Sullivan, professor of Spanish at the University of Louisville, teaches language, poetry, and translation. Her collaborative translations of Natalia Toledo and Enriqueta Lunez have appeared in Phoneme Media and Ugly Duckling Presse. Deche bitoope / El dorso del cangrejo / Carapace Dancer, by Natalia Toledo, is forthcoming from Deep Vellum.