Literature in Translation |

“Sacred Sun,” “My Language,” “Poetry’s Silence” & “X-Askuñ”

Juana Peñate Montejo writes in Ch’ol, a Mayan language of southern Mexico spoken by a quarter of a million people. Because Peñate’s work is poetry and the soundscape and linguistic structure of Ch’ol is nothing like English, the translations involved a linguist who specializes in the Ch’ol language and culture and a poet who writes in English. The intensely collaborative method consisted of in-person interviews with Peñate, word-for-word translations, cultural research, numerous drafts, and recordings of the translations for Peñate’s approval. Occasionally, culturally significant words and phrases were left in the original Ch’ol, such as käñk’äñ ixim and chäkchab in the poem “My Language.” These Ch’ol words for different types of corn invite the reader to notice the visual difference in the two languages, as well acknowledge the impossibility of word-for-word replacement when it comes to cultural significance.

Peñate won the 2020 Premio de Literaturas Indígenas de Latinoamérica. Her poetry and translations have been published in a number of literary journals such as World Literature Today and Arkansas International.

-Carol Rose Little and Charlotte Friedman

 

/     /     /

 

 

Sacred Sun

 

I am here, inhabiting the spirit

of my ancestors. Here, with the sun,

keeper of my thoughts. I ask

the meaning of my words —

words to undo the deceptions of people.

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

My Language

 

 

i

My language is constellations,

fireflies in the dark.

My language is yellow corn, k’äñk’äñ ixim,

new to the world, turning to blue, chäkchab.

My language is tilled, wet earth

where the games of butterflies are born.

 

If I could describe the joy of my language,

I would with blossoms, belled and white.

If I could unwrap its wounds,

I would in times of cold,

so that our bones embraced.

 

 

ii

They ask me about my language, how it is made.

I tell them they should carry a pitcher to the creek.

 

They want to know about this wailing.

I tell them to walk in a place of rocks.

 

Smoke streams from the spirit house

of our language, where pieces are preserved.

 

Sown into the soil, our language flourishes.

Multihued, washed by water.

 

But now, its sounds are distant, unclear.

My language buries itself, waits.

 

Spoken, my language emits joy,

love yet to be felt, difficult music,

first kiss from a cunning heart.

 

 

iii

My language brings rain

sometimes dew, sometimes

a downpour.

Other days, it is quiet,

losing itself in the shallows of a stream.

Suddenly, my language appears again,

the mockingbird in times of longing.

 

Crack of thunder in June,

gusts in the dark, my language asks —

How is the world?

And becomes power, lightning, the sun.

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

Poetry’s Silence

 

Like how rum is drunk,

sip by sip, or a dance understood,

when there is nothing left

in time’s glass.

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

X-Askuñ

 

Bells chime in the church

of the Archangel Saint Michael.

You fill the casket, and the faces of the women

answer in agony.

 

It has been three months since you drove away.

You took our ancestors’ satchel, sodden with smoke

from so many years hanging on the wooden post.

Sadness was in your face, even though you smiled.

 

Now, in your casket, uprooted and torn from life.

I think this is just a nightmare, I want to wake up.

I think that you are breathing.

I think that you will return to drink your pozol.

You are going to come back, a handful of greens

and fistful of chiles in your bag.

 

X-Askuñ, X-Askuñ, you travelled

in a dream, brief life.

Now, my tears overflow this bowl.

X-Askuñ, X-Askuñ, I will drink slowly,

so that I will not search for the path you walked.

 

*

[X-Askuñ  –  a term of respect for men — literally ‘older brother’

pozol – fermented corn drink]

 

 

/     /     /     /     /

 

 

Ch’ujulbä k’iñ

 

Wä’añoñ kchumtyañ ich’ujlel kñotye’elob

ilayi ya’ baki lakch’ujutyaty

jiñäch iyum kña’tyibal,

jiñ mi jk’ajtyibeñ isujmlel kty’añ,

ty’añ muk’bä ilowbeñ machbä uts’atyik ity’añ lakpi’älob.

 

 

/     /     /

 

 

Kty’añ

 

i

Jiñi kty’an che’ bajche’ ek’tyak mi imos jiñi pañchañ,

che’ bajche’ xk’äjk’äs yäpyäpña che’ ik’yoch’añ.

jiñi kty’añ che’ bajche’ k’äñk’äñ ixim che’ mi ilok’el tyi pañumil,

chäkchab ixim mi isujtyel che’ mi yochel tyi ap’ätyälel.

Ili kty’añ ach’päk’añbä lum ya’ baki mi ityejchel iyälas xpejpemtyak.

 

Muk’ikax imejlel kts’ijbubeñ ityijikñäyel ili kty’añ

Mi kmel yik’oty  xpapañichim,

muk’ikax imejlel pits’chokoñ ilojwel ili kty’añ,

mi kmel che’ tyi yoralel tsäñal cha’an che’ jiñi mi imek’ob ibäj lakbäkel.

 

 

ii

Mi ik’ajtyibeñoñob cha’añ imejlib ili kty’añ,

mi ksubeñob cha’añ la’ ikuchob jiñi uk’um tyi pa’.

 

Mi ik’ajtyibeñoñob cha’añ isoñil jiñi äjakñabä,

mi ksubeñob cha’añ mi icha’leñob xämbal tyi xajlelol.

 

Iyejtyal ili kty’añ tyi otyoty ba’ jupukña jiñi buts’

ya’ baki lotyol tyi chajp tyi chajp kty’añlojoñ.

 

Mi ipäjk’el tyi lum kty’añlojoñ cha’añ mi ip’ojlel,

tyi pa’ mi ipojkel cha’añ  mi iñijkañ ibäj bajche’ ty’oxja’.

 

Mach tsikilik wäle ityiwtyiwñäyel ili kty’añ

mukul chumul tyi xujk, mi ipijtyañ ibäj tyi malil lum.

 

Ili kty’añ che’ mi icha’leñ ty’añ mi ilok’sañ tyijikñajaxbä,

ya’ tyi iñäk’ mi ilok’sañ k’uxbiyaj maxtyobä tyälbilik,

jiñäch machbä tyälbilik k’ay yik’oty ñaxañbä ts’ujts’uyaj tyi ityojlel chañchañbä pusik’al.

 

 

iii

Ili kty’añ mi ich’äñ tyilel iyujts’il ja’al,

tyajol ye’eb,

tyajol kolem ja’al,

yambä k’iñ ñäch’äkña,

xityikotyol mi isäty ibäj tyi imalil pa’,

mi itsuk’ tyilel, mi icha’ tyilel che’ bajche’ ts’uñuñtyak

che’ tyi yoralel pijtyayaj.

 

Ili kty’añ che’ bajche’ xu’chajk che’ tyi juño,

che’ bajche’ ju’ukñabä ik’ che’ ik’tyo,

mi ik’ajtyiñ bajche’ añ iyejtyal tyi pañumil,

mi isujtyel tyi ch’ejl, mi isujtyel tyi chajk, mi isujtyel tyi k’iñ.

 

 

/     /     /

 

 

Jap

 

Che’ mi ijajpel iñäch’tyälel ñichty’añ

che’ bajche’ mi ijajpel tyi jujump’is chicha,

che’ mi ijajpel iñäch’tyälel soñ,

che’ bajche’ mi ijajpel iputs’ib ñajtylel.

 

 

/     /     /

 

 

X-Askuñ

 

Tsiñtsiña jiñi uxlujump’ej ijats’o tya’k’iñ

ya’ tyi yotyotylel ch’ujutyesayaj Sañ Mikel Arkankel,

awajñib ik’woxañ ya’ baki ñolol abäk’tyal,

jiñi iwutyob x-ixikob woli ijak’ob yoj.

 

Uxp’ej uw che’ tsa’ majliyety, tsa’ jk’eleyety tsa’ letsiyety ya’ tyi ñoxi’ xäñibal,

tsa’ ach’ämä majlel ichim lakñojtye’el,

jiñi ñoxi’ chim añixbä ibuts’il wajalixbä jok’ol ya’ tyi ñoxi’ oy,

ya’ tyi awuty añ ts’itya’ ch’ijiyemlel, tse’ekña atyi’.

 

Wäle abäk’tyal che’jax bajche’ tyomel tye’ añety tyi awajñib,

mi kña’tyañ cha’añ ñajaljach, kom mi ijajmel kwuty,

mi kña’tyañ cha’añ woli ajap ik’,

mi kña’tyañ cha’añ tyalety ajap asa’,

cha’añ mi ikajel ajulel yik’oty juñbuts apimel tyi ak’äb,

yik’oty juñjojp ich tyi achim.

 

X-Askuñ, x-Askuñ, tsa’ ñumiyety tyi ñajal machbä jocholik, machbä tyamik,

jiñjach wäle juñjojp uk’el machbä ochik tyi tsimaj,

X-Askuñ, x-Askuñ, abu’lich lum, awa’al lum, mi ikajel kjape’ tyi jujup’is,

ñäch’äl mi ikajel kjape’ cha’añ ma’añik mi ktsäklañ majlel aty’um bij.

 

Contributor
Carol Rose Little

Carol Rose Little is an assistant professor of linguistics at the University of Oklahoma in the Modern Languages, Literatures and Linguistics department. She has been working with Ch’ol communities in Chiapas, Mexico and has lived in the Ch’ol community of San Miguel for extended periods since 2015. She received her Ph.D. from Cornell University in linguistics with two graduate minors, in American Indian and Indigenous Studies and in cognitive science. 

Contributor
Charlotte Friedman

Charlotte Friedman (MFA MS) is a poet and author (The Girl Pages, Hyperion). She teaches Narrative Medicine in the English Department at Barnard College, Columbia University and has taught writing and narrative medicine workshops for a variety of audiences. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net and published in the Connecticut River Review, Intima, Waterwheel Review and elsewhere.

Contributor
Juana Peñate Montejo

Juana Peñate Montejo is a Ch’ol poet, writer, translator, educator and cultural promoter from Emiliano Zapata, Tumbalá, Chiapas, Mexico. She has authored several books of poetry in Ch’ol with self-translations in Spanish including Mi nombre ya no essilencio (Coneculta 2002), Ipusik’al Matye’lum/Heart of a Wild Land, first published by Pluralia in 2013, and most recently Isoñil Ja’al/Dance of the Rain, which won the 2020 Premio de Literaturas Indígenas de América and will be published in 2023 by the University of Guadalajara — as well as Tsa’Kñajle … Jump’ej K’iñ, Jump’ej K’iñ … /One Day, One Day … I Dreamed, to be co-published this year by Oralibrura and Lakñichimal.

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