The epic poem:
A death in Cajamarca, Peru
[Atahualpa, in Cajamarca]
Preview: This is a version, not a translation of any kind, about the imprisonment and death of Atahualpa the Inca King of the Inca Empire, in the 16th century (Peru).
Atahualpa, enduring in Cajamarca
Received by De Soto, your free friend from Spain!
“Calm down! These times will be tolerant of you.”
By Riquelme, who is worn out with this place?
Dissatisfied with checkmate, look at Atahualpa
So simply hateful, fiery, gloomy, unattractive,
And longs to meet again in Spain,
After the shame of defeat,
By the captive slave Atahualpa, Inca King
Who gave advice to Captain Hernando De Soto
And inevitably got checkmate…
And friends and party–he saw most of all, their games–
This life seemed empty and flat. loosens up to rest
In his vast prison all alive with walls, listening
And trembling fighters in Inca tunics, the air
Charmed by the roaring fermatas of men–
The sunlit canopy rising above,
Swollen and stained against her cordoned veins
And fluttering off its edge with a piercing testimony–
The wild warriors roaring from the pit below–
The wildest crowded soldiers from above
With a long cry that sends the startled blood
With excitement and sudden blush in the knees–
A hundred voices screaming–to the Inca King
Of Spanish horses galloping across the land–
The sound of swords, the sharp clashes of steel…
Living swords circling with red blood–
Gall hooves glistening under her torrent of hair–
A magical and prophetic God, for them
Worse than fury: Atahualpa’s eyes
To the Peruvian Indians, without doing anything,
His muscle tensed, and then comes the bondage;
“Abet! That is the will of God!” Atahualpa tells his people.
“…The Thais, it’s their Spain, it’s not ours or mine.”
And yes, Atahualpa felt that the great God was by his side
He stands with his face up, as if he sees and believes.
The game illustrates this, saying, “That’s death!”
“Ah! For my Spain!” I speak his own words
As for your group, I know them, all of them…
A strange place crazy and full of makeup, untamed–
Soto, Rada, Chávez, Atienza and Riquelme
They all seemed like good men devoid of revenge–
A little crazy, but who’s completely sane?
They walked with the war as they were taught,
And they gave away their laughter but not the gold,
And all their talk was gold and fuss.
If the Spaniards thought and said that they were gods,
It was nonsense without interruptions, not serving death.
Death to the riddled Inca king, Atahualpa
What most aroused Atahualpa’s brother, Titu–
It was that his brother gave the Spanish his resources,
And he cried out that the rich men would pay his ransom;
And, worst of all, he roundly denounced his people,
With all their cries to combat the greed of the Spaniards–;
They said they were phonies who made stretched sentences;
And they were at best, just conquerors of the devil;
And this was what led Pizarro to his death.
As it was Riquelme who voted to hang Atahualpa
Those who went with him did not believe in him
They were mostly dull and uneducated men
Simple and stunned by what he said,
And misinterpreting every word he said.
He guided them by a captivated fear;
They followed him like rebels, wherever he went,
With mixed feelings of wonder, fear and dread.
Terrified until he was hanged!…
So said, by the ruling hand of Pizarro
I hear him smoking in the patio below, like Pilot,
Cursing his servants and Spain.
The sun is going down–the whole sky is on fire–
In half an hour everything will be dull and gray
again;
Through the blinding eyes of the many–
Don Francisco Pizarro, as Titus of Rome
Announces the unjustified execution of
Atahualpa!…
As long as the Incas are known by men
The name of Riquelme will bear the mark of notoriety,
The curse, of generations yet to be born! …
#744 6/2005
Spanish version
A Death in Cajamarca, Peru
(Atahualpa)
Preview: This is a version, not a translation of any kind, about the imprisonment and death of Atahualpa, the Inca King of the Inca Empire, in the 16th century (Peru).
Atahualpa, fulfillment in Cajamarca
Greeted by De Soto, his emancipated friend from Spain
“Be calm! These times will be tolerant for you.”
For Riquelme, who is tired of this place
Dissatisfied with checkmate, look at Atahualpa
As simply obnoxious–fiercely, sadly unattractive,
And longs again found in Spain.
After the shame of defeat,
By the captive slave Atahualpa, Inca King
Who gave advice to Captain Hernando De Soto
Got an inevitable matte jackfruit…
And friends and feast–they saw most of all, their games–
This life seemed white and flat. The inert to rest
In his sprawling prison all with living walls, listening
And trembling fighters in Inca costumes–the air
Delighted with the growing roir of men–
The sunlit canopy raised high
Swollen and stained against her cordoned veins
And rippling off its edges with heartbreaking testimonials–
The wild warriors roaring from the abyss–
The wildest soldiers crowded screaming from above
With a long cry that sends the startled blood
With shudder and sudden current to the knees–
A hundred voices screaming–to the Inca King
From Spanish horses galloping across the field–
The touch of swords, the sharp clashes of steel.
Living swords circling with bloody red–
Hooves, glinting under their voluminous hairs–
The conjuring of a prophetic God–for them
Worse than scandal–Atahuallpa’s eyes
To the Peruvian Indians–of doing nothing–
His muscles tense—and then comes bondage;
“Courage! This is the will of God”, says Atahualpa to his people
“…this is it, this is your Spain–this is not mine or ours.”
And yes, Atahualpa felt that the great God was on his side.
He stands with his face raised, as if he sees and believes
Play him so illustration, and say, “this is death!”
“Ah! For my Spain!” I say your own words
As for your group, I know you all–
A rare place made of crazy and untamed–
Soto, Rada, Chávez, Atienza and Riquelme
They all seemed to me, correct men devoid of revenge
A little crazy–but who is entirely sane?
They took care of the war as they were taught,
And they gave away their smile but not the gold
And all their talk was about gold and fuss.
If the Spaniards thought and said that they were gods,
This was unwavering folly, not deserving of death
Death for the enigmatic Inca king, Atahualpa
What most incited Atahualpa’s brother, Titu–
It was that his brother gave the Spanish his resources,
And he exclaimed that rich men would pay his ransom;
And, worst of all, roundly denouncing his people,
With all their cries to fight the ambition of the Spaniards–;
They said that they were frauds who made extended prayers;
And they were, at best, just conquerors of the devil;
And this was what Pizarro presented at his death.
As it was Riquelme who voted to hang Atahualpa
Those who went with him did not believe in him
They were mostly puny, uneducated men
Simple and stunned by what he said,
And misheard every word he said.
He led them with him in a captivated fear,
They followed him like rebels, wherever he went,
With mixed feelings of doubt, fear and dread.
Afflicted with fear until they hung him!….
So much was said, by the ruling hand of Pizarro
I heard him freak out down in court, like Pilate.
Cursing his servants and Spain
The sun is going down–the whole sky is on fire–
Half an hour from here, therefore, everything will be dull and gray again;
Over the blind eyes of many
Don Francisco Pizarro, as Titus of Rome
Announcement of the unjustifiable execution of Atahualpa
As long as the Inca is recognized by men
Riquelme’s number will bear the renowned brand that it encloses,
The curse, of generations not yet born!…