Rosario Castellanos. "La Malinche"
Excerpted from Meditation on the threshold : a bilingual anthology of poetry / Rosario Castellanos.
Trans. Julian Palley. Tempe, AZ: Bilingual Press/Editorial Bilingüe, 1988.
 
"La Malinche"
From her royal throne my mother announced: "She is dead"

And then she collapsed, humbled,
in the arms of the other, the usurper, my stepfather
who sustained her not with the respect
a servant owes to the majesty of a queen
but with the mutual submissiveness
with which lovers, accomplices, abase themselves.

From the Plaza de los Intercambios
my mother announced: "She is dead."

The scale
remained immobile for an instant
the cacao bean reposed quietly in its chest
the sun stood still in the sky's zenith
as if awaiting a sign
which was, when it shot out like an arrow,
the penetrating cry of the mourners.

"The many-petaled flower has withered
the perfume has evaporated
the torch's flame extinguished.

A girl returns, scratching at
the spot where the midwife left her navel.

She returns to the Place of Those who have Lived.

She beholds her father, murdered,
ay, ay, ay, with poison, with a dagger,
with a trap set before his feet, with a hangman's noose.

Taken by the hand, she and they walk, they walk,
losing themselves in the fog."

Such was the weeping and lamentation
over an anonymous corpse; a cadaver
that was not mine, because I, sold to
the merchants, went forth to exile like a slave,
a pariah.

Expelled, cast out from
the kingdom, from the palace and warmth
of her who gave honest birth to me
and who despised me because I was her equal
in figure and rank
she who saw herself in me and hated her image
and dashed the mirror to the ground.

I go, in chains, toward my destiny
and am followed still by the sounds
of the mournful chants with which they bury me.

And the voice of my mother in tears--in tears!--
that decries my death.

En la tierra de en medio