A Flower Song
Where thou walkest, O singer, bring forth thy flowery drum, let it stand amid beauteous feathers, let it be placed in the midst of golden flowers;
That thou mayest rejoice the youths and the nobles in their grandeur.
Wonderful indeed is it how the living song descended upon the drum, how it loosened its feathers and spread abroad the songs of the Giver of Life, and the coyol bird answered, spreading wide its notes, offering up its flowery songs of flowers.
Wherever I hear those words, perhaps the Giver of Life is answering, as answers the coyol bird, spreading wide its notes, offering up its flowery song of flowers.
It rains down precious stones and beauteous feathers rather than words; it seems to be as one reveling in food, as one who truly knows the Giver of Life.
Thus do the nobles glorify themselves with things of beauty, honor and delight, that they may please the one only god, though one knows not the dwelling of the Giver of Life, one knows not whether he is on earth.
May I yet for a little while have time to revel in those precious and honorable youths; may I wreathe flowers for their nobility; may I here yet for a while wind the songs around the drum.
I am a guest here among the rulers of Huexotzinco; I lift up my voice and sing of precious stones and emeralds; I select from among the youths those for whom I shall wreathe the flowers of nobility.
There comes from within the heavens a good flower, a good song, which will destroy your grief, destroy your sorrow; therefore, Chief of the Chichimecs, be glad and rejoice.
Here, delightful friendship, turning about with scarlet dyed wings, rains down its flowers, and the warriors and youths, holding in their hands the fragrant xilo flowers, walk about inhaling the sweet odor.
The golden coyol bird sings sweetly to you, sweetly lifts its voice like a flower, like sweet flowers in your hand, as you converse and lift your voice in singing, etc.
Even like the quechol bird to the Giver of Life, even as the herald of God, you have waited for the dawn, and gone forth singing ohui, etc.
Although I wish that the Giver of Life shall give for flowers the shield-flower, how shall I grieve that your efforts have been in vain, that you have gone forth from the world.
Even as I shall go forth into the place of decayed flowers, so sometime will it be with your fame and deeds on earth. Although they are flowers, although they are songs, how shall I grieve that your efforts have been in vain, that you have gone forth from the world.
Let us be glad, dear friends, let us rejoice while we walk here on this flowery earth; may the end never come of our flowers and songs, but may they continue in the mansion of the Giver of Life.
Yet a little while and your friends must pass from earth. What does friendship offer of enjoyment, when soon we shall no longer be known on earth?
This is the burden of my song, of the garland of flowers played on the flute, without equal in the place of the nobles.
Within the house of flowers the Lord of the Waters, of the Gate of the Waters, answers thee, has answered thee.
Where thou livest, my beloved, the Giver of Life sends down upon thee sometimes things of sadness; but I, the singer, shall make thee glad in the place of difficulty, in the place of cumber.
Here are the many flowers, the beauteous flowers, rained down within the house of spring, within its painted house, and I with them shall make thee glad.
O, you there in Tlaxcala, you have played like sweet bells upon your drums, even like brilliantly colored flowers. There was Xicontecatl, lord of Tizatlan, the rosy-mouthed, whose songs gave joy like flowers, who listened to the words of the one only God.
Thy house, O Giver of Life is in all places; its mats are of flowers, finely spun with flowers, where thy children pray to thee.
A rain of various flowers falls where stands the drum, beauteous wreaths entwine it, sweet flowers are poured down around it.
Where the brilliant scolopender basks, the coyol bird scatters abroad its songs, answering back the nobles, rejoicing in their prowess and might.
Scattering flowers I rejoice you, dear friends, with my drum, awaiting what comes to our minds.
It reaches even to God, he hears it seeking him within the heavens, the song comes and the angels answer, playing on their flutes.
But I am sad within this wood.
That thou mayest rejoice the youths and the nobles in their grandeur.
Wonderful indeed is it how the living song descended upon the drum, how it loosened its feathers and spread abroad the songs of the Giver of Life, and the coyol bird answered, spreading wide its notes, offering up its flowery songs of flowers.
Wherever I hear those words, perhaps the Giver of Life is answering, as answers the coyol bird, spreading wide its notes, offering up its flowery song of flowers.
It rains down precious stones and beauteous feathers rather than words; it seems to be as one reveling in food, as one who truly knows the Giver of Life.
Thus do the nobles glorify themselves with things of beauty, honor and delight, that they may please the one only god, though one knows not the dwelling of the Giver of Life, one knows not whether he is on earth.
May I yet for a little while have time to revel in those precious and honorable youths; may I wreathe flowers for their nobility; may I here yet for a while wind the songs around the drum.
I am a guest here among the rulers of Huexotzinco; I lift up my voice and sing of precious stones and emeralds; I select from among the youths those for whom I shall wreathe the flowers of nobility.
There comes from within the heavens a good flower, a good song, which will destroy your grief, destroy your sorrow; therefore, Chief of the Chichimecs, be glad and rejoice.
Here, delightful friendship, turning about with scarlet dyed wings, rains down its flowers, and the warriors and youths, holding in their hands the fragrant xilo flowers, walk about inhaling the sweet odor.
The golden coyol bird sings sweetly to you, sweetly lifts its voice like a flower, like sweet flowers in your hand, as you converse and lift your voice in singing, etc.
Even like the quechol bird to the Giver of Life, even as the herald of God, you have waited for the dawn, and gone forth singing ohui, etc.
Although I wish that the Giver of Life shall give for flowers the shield-flower, how shall I grieve that your efforts have been in vain, that you have gone forth from the world.
Even as I shall go forth into the place of decayed flowers, so sometime will it be with your fame and deeds on earth. Although they are flowers, although they are songs, how shall I grieve that your efforts have been in vain, that you have gone forth from the world.
Let us be glad, dear friends, let us rejoice while we walk here on this flowery earth; may the end never come of our flowers and songs, but may they continue in the mansion of the Giver of Life.
Yet a little while and your friends must pass from earth. What does friendship offer of enjoyment, when soon we shall no longer be known on earth?
This is the burden of my song, of the garland of flowers played on the flute, without equal in the place of the nobles.
Within the house of flowers the Lord of the Waters, of the Gate of the Waters, answers thee, has answered thee.
Where thou livest, my beloved, the Giver of Life sends down upon thee sometimes things of sadness; but I, the singer, shall make thee glad in the place of difficulty, in the place of cumber.
Here are the many flowers, the beauteous flowers, rained down within the house of spring, within its painted house, and I with them shall make thee glad.
O, you there in Tlaxcala, you have played like sweet bells upon your drums, even like brilliantly colored flowers. There was Xicontecatl, lord of Tizatlan, the rosy-mouthed, whose songs gave joy like flowers, who listened to the words of the one only God.
Thy house, O Giver of Life is in all places; its mats are of flowers, finely spun with flowers, where thy children pray to thee.
A rain of various flowers falls where stands the drum, beauteous wreaths entwine it, sweet flowers are poured down around it.
Where the brilliant scolopender basks, the coyol bird scatters abroad its songs, answering back the nobles, rejoicing in their prowess and might.
Scattering flowers I rejoice you, dear friends, with my drum, awaiting what comes to our minds.
It reaches even to God, he hears it seeking him within the heavens, the song comes and the angels answer, playing on their flutes.
But I am sad within this wood.
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