The Magic of the Cities.

Zen promotes the rediscovery of the obvious, which is so often lost in its familiarity and simplicity. It sees the miraculous in the common and magic in our everyday surroundings. When we are not rushed, and our minds are unclouded by conceptualizations, a veil will sometimes drop, introducing the viewer to a world unseen since childhood. ~ John Greer

Showing posts with label Nezahualcoyotl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nezahualcoyotl. Show all posts

Saturday, May 1, 2010

May 1st, Theme Day: Statues

Nezahualcoyotl  King of Texcoco
Sculpture by Luis Ortiz Monasterio (1956)

(April 28, 1402 – June 4, 1472) was a philosopher, warrior, architect, poet and ruler (Tlatoani) of the city-state of Texcoco in Pre-Columbian Mexico. Unlike other high-profile Mexican figures from the century preceding Spanish Conquest,  Nezahualcoyotl was not an Aztec; his people were the “Acolhua", another Nahualtl people settled in the eastern part of the Valley of Mexico, the eastern side of Lake Texcoco. He is best remembered for his beautiful poetry.

Songs by Nezahualcoyotl

The destruction of the Mexican state was foreshadowed by a series of omens and prodigies which took place during the ten years preceding the arrival of Cortes. 
By the "smoking stars" is meant a comet that was visible for about a year.
The sweet-voiced quetzal there, ruling the earth, has intoxicated my soul.
I am like the quetzal bird, I am created in the one and only God; I sing sweet songs among the flowers; I chant songs and rejoice in my heart.

The fuming dewdrops from the flowers in the fields intoxicate my soul.
I grieve to myself that ever this dwelling on earth should end.
I foresaw, being a Mexican, that our rule began to be destroyed, I went forth weeping that it was to bow down and to be destroyed.
Let me not be angry that the grandeur of Mexico is to be destroyed.
The smoking stars gather against it: the one who cares for flowers is about to be destroyed.
He who cared for books wept, he wept for the beginning of the destruction.

Amo el canto del zenzontle
Pájaro de cuatrocientas voces,
Amo el color del jade
Y el enervante perfume de las flores,
Pero más amo a mi hermano: el hombre.

I love the song of the mockingbird,
Bird of four hundred voices,
I love the color of the jadestone
And the enrapturing scent of flowers,
But more than all I love my brother: man.

Click here to view thumbnails for all participants

New York City and Washington series continue in Sketches of Cities. 
 (At Least Once A Week)

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