El homenaje al Ballet Folklorico de México
Who am I
A bird
I fly about
I sing of flowers
I compose songs and dances
butterflies of song and dance
In my ritual feathers
I erect a tabernacle
to Xochipilli
Flower God of song and dance
Inside his suchil
is the mirror that sees
holy incense blowing toward
four cardinal points of our Cosmos:
Villia de Guadalupe- North
Chalma- South
Los Remedios-West
Amecameca- East
In a dream the sword of España
pierces Moctezuma’s heart
The King of the Aztecs shoulders the vision
unfurling effulgent feathers of a sacred bird
ascends skyward
winging to the four corners of his world
to warn his flock -
the siege of the stranger
will soon scorch
the sanctuary of the Aztec soul
He finds strength
In the Feather Dance of Oaxaca
In the temple
I venerate
souls of the concheros
with flower-filled tears
Let a tribute burst forth
from my soul
Let our hearts be delighted
in the Dance of Los Concheros
We have come
O my friends
from Campeche
with the dances Campechito
and La Guaranducha
we entwine you
in costumes of color
we are adorned
How bright we shine
Zapotecs of Chiapas
We have polished our dances
that glimmer like the gold and silver
of our handcrafts
Indios, we consumed España
but created our own tenderness
elegant moments
Son de la marimba, San Christobal and
Alcaraban
Sacred Deer
you hear the sonajas
as Yaqui pascolas of
the northwest
draw near
rattling your nerve
with the wooded vision of forest eyes
they stalk you
O holy animal
yet
you are swifter
than the hunter’s arrow
hidden amid Sinaloan shades
you spring forth and attack
in struggle you die
the flute your plaintive companion
echoing the fading drum beat
of your heart
They have come, my friends
from Michoacan
to celebrate the past
the secrets of the ancient Tarascans
transforming
our modern eye
In my hand
the dry land of El Norte
in my mind the moist memory
of Irish hornpipes
German schottishes
and Polish polkas
in Chihuahua and
Durango
in Sonora and
Coahuila
we remember the blue-eyed music
and dance joyfully western style
Taratan, Sapo y La Rana and Capsula
torso-twisting
hip-persisting
with fiddle and accordion
over and over
In the green land
of Tamaulipas
slowly you glide toward me
dream-like
your dancing huapango feet
work hard on the platform
to win my eye in Ciudad Victoria
your heart a violin pulsating my name
La Rosa, La Rosa
tugs at the strings
of my huapanguera
soon a high voice
carries me aloft
I rest my jarana
look into your face
El Querreque
the irony of death
From the Totonac images
of long ago
Sones Jarochos burst
forth
rushing along the blue coast
of Vera Cruz
It is Fandango Time
the tarima is raised
instruments embraced-
harp, requinto and
jarana
await the master’s touch
the impassioned feet tingle
now, Jarocho
Improvise before our eyes
in your guayaberra shirt
your boots send rapid fiery sparks
rivaling heat of a tropical sun
behind your fan
ruffled white train to the winds
Jarocha, you seem flamenco-formed
but your footwork fast and light
a Tlingo Lingo
delight
gives you away
Behind a stoic smile
I hide my sadness
my hurt
I hear your trumpets, España
you rudely awake me
with your violins and guitars
but I, Mestizo
listen absorb refashion
and the Son Mariachi
is born
In the dark of night I unmask
with mournful gritos
volcanic cries
erupting as zapateados
pounding my frustration
into the Jalisco earth
La Negra, Gavilan, Pasajero
sweep across the sombrero’s brim
El Charro sends his
heartbeat home
like a prancing horse
with the sweet syrup of the Jarabe Tapatio
on his lips
Pura Puebla
your children touch us
with jarabes
old and new
strolling musicians
drawing your dancing daughter,
La China Poblana,
Into our midst
Come, Mariachero
and play for my wedding in Nayarit
let only joy only songs
enfold us
our hearts are in ecstasy
full of rapture
our friends join us in celebration
we are one today
in El Son del Buey
Just as the men return
triumphant from the field
their machetes elevated
so too our love
ascends heaven-ward
cuts across time
reaping a harvest of oneness
Mis bailes
son
las flores
mariposas
de mi canto
que
brotan de mi alma
gusto
de mi corazon
I come
laughing from Campeche
I wink
as I dance Pavito
my movement a flower opening
in the morning mist
of Ciudad del Carmen
listen to my song
see me dance
hombre
your white costume
against the blue sky
sets off my satin laced blouse
embroidered with flowers
around my waist, your arm
strong and steady
my soul is swept up
in the full skirts of
El Jabali, Tortuga and El Sapo
as you and I flirt in Chiapas
Up from Valparaiso
Chileans touched Guerreros’s coast
now we boast of a Chilean girl
who dances La Son Marquena for us
Yes
Guerrero es mi region
Era
todo lo que teniamos
Era
todo lo que necesitabamos
En
el cielo era nuestro
Y
los dioses, nuestro eran tambien
Si,
Guerrero
es mi region
Nayarit
once in the shadow of your sister, Tapatia
sing your own song and claim
your own dances on La Costa
Vuela Paloma, Novillo Despuntado and
Paraleno
From the isle of Janitzio
in the lake of Patzcuaro, Michoacan
St. James waves his hand
against the marching Moors
Santiago
beneath a pearl-laden turban
your face hides the meaning
of the Crusade
reveal to us those mysteries
the secrets of before
in the Danza de los Morros
In Puebla
we saw a Black mother
bend in prayer over her child
writhing in pain
from the culebra’s bite
we capture her story
in the dance of Los Negritos
Like La Bruja
Vera Cruz bewitches me
with her Afro-Caribbean beat
enchanting dove of love
binding mi corazon
with yours
Jarocha of Vera Cruz
your lace shawl falls over
dark shoulders that intrigue me
but
you sting my soul as if you were
La Iguana’s tail
Ay, Nicolas
Where are you, my beloved?
in the town again
with someone new
while I am at home
waiting dutifully for you
I laugh and cry
a motion of emotion
sizzling in my Mestizo soul
at night the music I make
fills the air
forging a new identity
in the light of day
on the cobblestones
you hear horse’s hoof beats
but it is really
my dancing feet
on the blood drenched soil
of Jalisco
in bold zapateados
to the center of the earth
my message of gusto in
El Son de Ausente and El Huizache
I want to share my joy with you
please come down from the mountain
Llttle shy vacilla, spend the evening
with me under my sombrero
the stars will guide you to my heart
the moon will eclipse your fears
come to me, I beseech you
attend to me please
Son de la Vacilla
Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach
April 7, 1979
