"aguilar" poems
Sa tag-init tayo nagkatagpo dala ang uhaw
nais mapawi ang pagkatuyot sa tag-araw
mga lalamunang di nadadaluyan
hanap ay tubig, mga umiibig sa lamig
sa daloy ng awit ng mga Ipil
at sa mga aalalang nabuo
sa bawat paglagok, sa bawat isa
mga alaalang nabuo sa tag-araw.
alaala pa ang pagpalakpak ng mga dahon
minsan lang masiyahan sa pagpapalit-panaog
ng tag-araw at tag-ulan
panga-pangakong binuo sa ilalim ng araw
pinagdarasal ng mga kahapon
di pa rin nalilimot,
mga tuyong ugat ng mga pusong sawi
sa pag-ibig na tubig sa tag-init
minsan lang magkaniig
dahil ikaw at ako ay minsan ng nanirahan dito
bumuo ng mga alaaalang impit na itinago
sa ilalim ng mga punong saksi sa mga uhaw na puso,
sa marahang pag-indayog ng mga dahong maririkit
sa bawat pag-ihip ng hanging mainit
sa katawang binalot ng mga sala
at sa bawat pagbabalik sa alaala
ikaw pa rin ang tanging nakikita
sa bawat paglampas ng liwanag
sa maririkit na butas ng kahapong
sa ilalim ng ipil nakatago
Heto na naman ang tag-init
hudyat ay muling pag-udyok
sa uhaw na pusong may pangangailangan
tuyot ang daloy sa bawat paghinga
sa bawat pag-ihip kulang ang haplos
bawat hagod ay paos.
Alaala ka sa mga sinag ng araw
umaalpas sa mga dahon ng ipil
mga hapong napawi ang init ng tag-araw
nakakulong pa rin sa mga alaala
sa ilalim ng punong puno ng pagmamahal
sa kahapon at ako na di pa rin nagsasawa
sa ilalim ng mga Ipil
maghihintay sayo
Sa Ilalim ng mga Ipil
Michael Joseph Aguilar Tapit
04/11/2016
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
Señor Garcia Marquez
Whatever did you mean
When you wrote of life
And of death by family
I'm in love with
Prudencio Aguilar's ghost
Roaming about the Buendía household
Hole in his throat
Washing out the wound
But what did you mean?!
I'm in love with
Do it yourself chastity belts
And Ursula's fear of ***
But why is this even a theory
Your concept behind biracial inbreeding
And Señor do not get me started
On Melquíades and José Arcadio Buendía
Because that friendship was
Fated to be doomed
I mean no disrespect in all this
I just want to know
Why use Macondo as an allegory
For the Angel Gabriel
You're genius, really
But your run on paragraphs
Infuriate every ounce of my writing soul
You're a Columbian Tolstoy
I mean that as no insult
Your works are tremendous and outstanding
But what am I doing
You're now just an old dead man
"Under the ground"
So now I belong to figure out
Why Pilar needs to fill a void
Opened by a ******
And why Colonel Aureliano Buendía
Thinks of his fond memory of ice
Just before being killed
I've paid my respects to your work
Please pay respects to my search
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
Hindi na ako muling uulit sa mga saglit ng pagiging makata
sapagkat mahapdi sa tenga ang magkaroon ng isang bagong awit
kahit pa walang mabulaklak na salita ang paliparin
dinig pa rin ay ang bulaang himig ng pagiging batang ganid
Sapagkat musmos pa, at isinumpang maging mahina
dapat na laging maniwala sa mga sabi-sabi
sumunod sa paikot-ikot na pagkirot na dulot ng pagiging salot
naniniwalang kami’y uod ganid sa mga pangarap na dulot ng paglaki
Ngunit ang totoo’y hangad lang namin ay lumipad, at maging malaya
Bakit nga ba ganid at mapangangkin ang tingin sa mga makata?
dahil ba ang kanilang mga awit ay tungkol sa pagbibigay laya?
Bakit nga ba mayabang at mapagmataas ang tingin sa mga bata?
dahil ba sa kanila’y nag-aabang ang panibagong bukas?
O lahat ay dahil sa mga sabi-sabi ng mga matatanda.
Ito na nga ang huli kong awit
Sapagkat ang pagiging makata
At ang pagiging bata
Ay ang pagbabakas
ng bagong paniniwala.
Nagsalita na Naman ang Baliw
Michael Joseph Aguilar Tapit
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
“You live but once; you might as well be amusing.”
― Coco Chanel
Sabi sa kanta ni Freddie Aguilar “Habang May Buhay May Pag-Asang Matatanaw” subalit ang pag-asa ay hindi lang dapat na tinatanaw mas mainam kung ito’y ating kukunin at ilalagay sa ‘ting mga kamay. Ang pag-asa ay laging kumakaway kahit tayo ay nasa dilim. Tumawid man tayo sa magkabilang bangin o kahit na hampasin pa tayo ng malakas na hangin, hindi dapat mawala sa ating paningin ang pag-asa na nagniningning. Ganito natin dapat harapin ang buhay kahit ang hirap ay sapin-sapin. Minsan lang tayo mabubuhay at ang buhay ay parang isang tulay na pagkahaba-haba man ay may hangganan din. Subalit mahaba man ito o maiiksi marami tayong haharapin, mga bagay-bagay at mga pangyayari na hindi natin maiiwasan. Mga damdamin na kahit iwasan, pilit ka nitong hahatakin pabalik sa kung saan ang mga ala-ala ay masasakit. Wala kang kawala kailangan na harapin mo ang mga ito. May mga nagbabagang karanasan na hindi mo gugustuhin na balikan pero kailangan mo munang harapin bago mo ito malampasan. Hindi parehas ang buhay, oo, tama yan, gago lang ang naniniwala na Life is Fair. Subalit wala kang choice kailangan mo harapin ang kawalang katarungan nang buhay. Walang dapat na masayang na sandali sapagkat isang araw ang mundong ito’y ating lilisanin. Gawi’ng kaakit-akit at marikit ang buhay kahit masakit.
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
Hapon tayo unang nagkita at pareho tayong nag-iisa
dinadamdam mo ang lamig ng kahapon, ang paglisan
minamasdan ko sa layo ng araw ang iyong halina
Mahirap mag-intay sa ilap ng mga sulyap,
tanglaw sa tuwing naghahanap-kayakap
sa mapangakit na halina ng mga ngiti sa labing
malabong magdikit kahit sa pangarap
Sana’y sapat na ang mga awit
ng mga tulang binigkas sa hangin,
nagbabakasakaling maipadama ang lalim
at tugma ng pag-ibig na nilihim
Sa gabi, mag-isa na naman at dama ang lamig
yakap ang unan, hawak ang kumot
nag-iilusyong kasama ka
Sana’y maulit muli ang sumpa
sana’y walang takot sa halina
‘pagkat sanay na tayo sa lamig ng gabi
alam na natin ang ingay o init
at takot na tayong mabighani
Sa umaga, mag-isa na naman at dama ang init
masaya na sa halik ng kape sa labi
nag-iilusyong kasama ka.
Hapon tayo unang nagkita at pareho tayong nag-iisa
dinamdam mo ang lamig ng kahapong kaysakit
ninamnam ko ang tamis ng kalayaan sa pasakit
sana’y tanghali nalang tayo nagkapiling
sana’y di pa sanay o manhid sa pag-ibig.
Tadhana
Michael Joseph Aguilar Tapit
6/19/2016
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
hinahanap pa rin kita
sa bawat araw na lumipas
mga gabing kayakap ang lamig
sa mga nakatagong larawang kupas
pinamarisan ng mga alaala
nakapinid sa’king damdamin
hinahanap pa rin
ang mga haplos at yakap
nakakulong sa mga kahapong
naglaho kasabay ng mga ulan,
at sa pag tila ng mga patak
ay siyang pag-agos ng aking luha
para sa mga alaalang
hinahanap kita
sa simoy ng tag-ulan
sa mga bakas ng agos ng luha
sa malamig na hanging dulot
ng mga madidilim na ulap
at sa mga naiwang alaala
hinahanap kita
kahit saan man mapunta aking mga paa
sa pag-iisa at sa paghahanap-karamay
sa walang hanggang agos ng kalungkutan
hinahanap pa rin
ang mga alaala
ng kahapong
hahanapin din
sayo.
Michael Joseph Aguilar Tapit
04/07/2017
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
Ito ang huling hapon ng mga alaala,
kupas na larawang sinikap maipinta
mga araw at gabing lipas na ng panahon
sa pag-indayog ng abo, at pagkaway ng damo
paalam sa mga nakaraang siphayo
paglubog ng araw, at ang buwan ng pag-ahon
sa hapon, at sa paglamon ng dilim sa liwanag
ang pagwaksi sa sariling naging duwag
Tapusin na ang dalita sa iyong gunita
Mga araw na unos ng paghihikahos
pagkapaos sa bigong pagsusumamo
sapagkat ito ang oras ng pag-agos
pagdaloy ng tubig, pagpawi sa kapos
sa agos, sa pagpaparaya, sa mga alaala
Bagamat tayo ay binuo ng mga pagsubok
at may mga lamat ng pagkapusok
alalahanin, tayo ay mga piraso
ng isang buong sining ng Maylikha
pagsamasamahin, tayo ay buo
magkakahiwalay man ay nabubuklod
hangaring mabuti ang maglingkod.
Simula
Michael Joseph Aguilar Tapit
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
OLMEDO
Cortés, I have a new, but nagging, fear.
I sense the premonition of a time
When you might be corrupted by the taint
Of evils lying latent in our task,
That vice, which our assignment permeates,
Will tempt resolve to heinous compromise.
CORTÉS
Our mission is implicit in its vice,
In evils ineradicably steeped,
And our grand charge requires that we submit
To its contamination and decay.
A man who would embrace the human lot,
To do so, must consent to be a sinner.
OLMEDO
Blood has been shed- For what? Lives squandered- Why?
You, having tripped in sin’s attractive trap,
To thus, in fragrant snares so feebly flail,
Through frail and flagrant failings such a way,
How can you say to me you are contrite?
CORTÉS
But father, mercy with my malice mingles.
These dicey circumstances find me now
In both a ruthless and reluctant role.
What seems intolerable of this plight
Is that it simply will not be reduced
To trite antitheses of right and wrong.
My conscience both opposes and demands
A rouse to action.
Enter AGUILAR, ALVARADO, MALINALLI, and a Mayan Girl.
AGUILAR Captain, by your will,
These endless battles have despoiled your foe,
Who offer you these slave girls as a bribe.
The terrorized Chontal surrender now.
They will be baptized, and befriend our king,
Provided that we leave their country soon.
CORTÉS
Easy to break that promise once we’re gone.
Tell them we shall release all Mayan soil,
And nomadize into the unknown North. Exit Aguilar.
Here, Alvarado, [indicates girl] guide her to your tent.
We’ll see what use for this one we can find.
Exit all but Malinalli.
MALINALLI
Now, silly Malinalli, drop your sights,
You pretty poppet for these bearded frights.
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
ALVARADO
Well, now we’ve a translator, we can hear
How much the Mayas hate us.
SANDOVAL We should leave.
As yet, we merely beg to buy their corn,
But fears impel them to combat with us.
We’ve sixty wounded, heat stroke swoons the horse,
And not a flake of gold for all these streams.
Their ruins lurk like wrecks dredged from a swamp.
ALVARADO
A stark reminder for aspiring minds
That cultures often fall as well as rise.
Here comes the father, with our medicine man.
Enter AGUILAR and OLMEDO.
AGUILAR
And so back home the Inquisition, brother,
Still rules the roost?
OLMEDO It does so.
AGUILAR Grim regime!
It clouds the air upon a thousand wings,
Whose shadows spread to pall the gloomy sun.
The cool, luxuriant trees on which it lights,
It dries. How it decays! It browns green grass,
And desolates the leafy countrysides
Until they wither as the Syrian wastes.
OLMEDO So it does.
SANDOVAL [aside] Hark! The moral landslide rumbles.
OLMEDO
Those fires of the Inquisition, lighted
Exclusively to doom the Jews, one day
Are destined to consume their smug oppressors.
SANDOVAL [aside to Alvarado]
He strains a bit to shield the circumcised.
Though I’ve a ***** mouth, my blood is pure.
ALVARADO [aside to Sandoval]
Hush, Sandoval. You go too far.
OLMEDO And you?
Know, Alvarado, there are many men
Who, through misguided zeal- yes, Sandoval-
Convince themselves that they commit no sin
So long as those they **** and violate
Are of a different faith.
ALVARADO It’s not our fault.
I hate the Grand Inquisitor myself.
SANDOVAL
Like any little-loved policing force,
However, it preserves our way of life.
OLMEDO
For its unwanted eye that never slumbers,
Its arm, unseen and ever raised to strike,
Does not o’ercast its gloom on you, but rather
On deviants, foreigners, and heretics.
AGUILAR
It bars all doors of human entry to them-
Marginalized, shorn lambs it ferrets out,
And scapegoats as the enemies of Rome.
Thus, it condemns not only deeds, but thoughts.
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
DÍAZ
Captain Cortés, at last our man is found.
From two days inland, natives ferried him.
Father Olmedo greets him as we speak-
A fellow priest it seems.
CORTÉS Bring him to me. Exit Díaz.
From Cozumel to here in Yucatán,
We’ve hunted this elusive castaway.
These Indians hustle us from shore to shore,
And, when their gifts of jade fail, toss us rocks.
ALVARADO
Their dizzying synthesis of amity
Backed up with menace proves unsettling.
Enter OLMEDO, SANDOVAL, and AGUILAR.
SANDOVAL
Now, wayward beadsman, meet our strategist.
CORTÉS
Who is this Indian? Where’s our long-lost priest?
AGUILAR
Hail, Christian knights! Sweet accents of Castile!
CORTÉS
Great welcome, cabined friar, you are free!
AGUILAR
Is it a Wednesday?
OLMEDO It’s the Lord’s day, friend.
AGUILAR
Of course it is! Grace to the only God!
My only link with Europe, all these years,
Has been to count the crawling calendar.
CORTÉS
We’ll need your past, to learn their policies.
AGUILAR
I wish I could. But of their etiquette
I’m ignorant, save slavish drudgery.
CORTÉS
You speak the language, though?
AGUILAR Why, like a native.
CORTÉS
Your name?
AGUILAR Gerónimo de Aguilar.
OLMEDO
Dear Aguilar! Your mother, home in Spain,
On hearing you’d been snatched by cannibals,
Abstained from meat, and cringed at frying flesh,
For fear, by chance, it might be part of you.
AGUILAR
Oh, rush me home to Écija, back where
The only blood drunk is the wine of Christ,
The only flesh consumed, our sacrament.
CORTÉS
What fate befell your fellow countrymen?
AGUILAR
The luckless women were harassed to death,
The men, dishearted. But a happy few
Broke from our cages and were spared for slaves,
Within the warlike clutch of Na Chan Can.
My freedom have your wax and honey bought.
One stubborn soul, Guerrero, stays behind.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
TEUHTLILLI [aside]
The unknown guests which call me to the east
Are such a hoax-like sighting as may lend
To superstition credence; rumors, weight.
I fear some rash infection has arrived.
Reports pour in of towers on the waves,
Maneuvered by a spectral race of men,
The truth of which I must submit to test.
And so it goes: The fleet of hueless troops
Approaches from the seashore as I speak.
Now, after weeks of waiting in the sticks,
At last, my first glimpse of these lily-skins.
Gods grant that they behave.
Enter CORTÉS, ALVARADO, SANDOVAL, AGUILAR.
AGUILAR Behold, Cortés,
Your foremost model of a Mexican.
TEUHTLILLI
Hail, friends of Mexico! Which is your chief?
Enter MALINALLI.
CORTÉS
Well, Aguilar?
AGUILAR He speaks a nonsense tongue.
We’re too far north. I can no longer help.
TEUHTLILLI
I ask again: Where is your leader, friends?
MALINALLI [aside]
(Now, silly girl, or never.) [indicating Cortés] This is he.
TEUHTLILLI
What’s this? A mediating concubine?
AGUILAR
You speak his language, girl, as well as mine?
CORTÉS
What, will this slave girl double-cross us all?
MALINALLI
Our humble chieftain greets your emperor
And many times does kiss those regal hands.
TEUHTLILLI
That’s well.
AGUILAR That’s well!
CORTÉS This all seems to be well.
AGUILAR
Rejoice, Cortés! This maid is double-tongued.
She’ll translate his words into my Chontal-
From him to her, from her to me, to you.
CORTÉS
Then let us test these true but tedious links.
MALINALLI You were saying, sir?
TEUHTLILLI How many braves trail in your train?
MALINALLI How many warriors tread in your wake?
AGUILAR How many soldiers shadow you?
CORTÉS Five thousand.
AGUILAR Uh, five thousand.
MALINALLI They’ve a thousand, sir.
TEUHTLILLI
I’ll see your thousand and I’ll raise you two.
[to a servant] Deploy two thousand men to build them huts,
[aside] But crammed with warlocks, witch doctors, and spies.
Exit a servant.
AGUILAR
This works well.
CORTÉS Thus the fragile chain is forged.
Friend, you must look upon our advent here
Not with unease, but as a world of good.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
CORTÉS
How now? What’s the debate?
AGUILAR The Inquisition:
It’s linked itself with tethers to our church,
Like two, aloof, reluctant mountaineers.
I fear, when that unholy office trips,
And plummets in the popular regard,
Its drop down estimation’s precipice
Will pull down our religion in its tow.
OLMEDO
We cavil, boys, as if there were two Spains.
CORTÉS
One good, one evil?
OLMEDO Not so simple. Yet,
One, global-bent, one isolationist,
One liberal, one counter to reform,
One, eyeing Greece, one stirring with the Moors,
Who, like the fatal twins of Oedipus,
Will not consent to reign in tandem more,
But rather wound each other mortally.
In Europe, there’s a word in currency:
Renaissance- It is not a Spanish word,
And there’s a reason.
CORTÉS And it is?
OLMEDO Some flaw
In Spain’s own character that’s culpable-
Catholic fanaticism, feverish pride,
Or warped deliriums of vanity.
We thought we were the new elect of God,
Mistook our patriotic egoism
For fealty to the church. Hence, our divorce
And isolation from the rest of Europe.
CORTÉS
No, it’s not Spain, not Catholics, nor our race,
But frailties of the human constitution,
Which frequently reverse the gains achieved
By previous generations, in the name
Of progress, culture, and civility. Trumpet is heard.
A parley sounds! See what those Mayas want.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 6:24 PM UTC
CORTÉS
Friend, you must look upon our advent here
Not with unease, but as a world of good.
AGUILAR [simultaneously] . . . but as a world of good.
My potent monarch rules beyond the seas,
And rumors tease his ears of Mexico.
I come to you as his ambassador,
MALINALLI [simultaneously] . . . to you as his ambassador,
With gifts I must in person grant your lord,
And bring him tidings that will save his life.
TEUHTLILLI
[aside] (Fresh off the boat, and asks for audience!)
My ruler also is a busy king,
Like yours, and he will send for his desires.
MALINALLI [simultaneously] . . . he will send for his desires.
He’s locked in caucus from his island throne:
The teeming, lacustrine metropolis
Of Mexico, called also, “Cactus Rock,”
AGUILAR [simultaneously] . . . called also, “Cactus Rock,”
Whose minions by the millions stir with drive,
And fructify the land on floating farms.
CORTÉS
A land with gold in hand?
TEUHTLILLI By heaps and mounds.
CORTÉS
“Why ask?” you’ll ask. I ask because I know
That precious metal heals an arrant heart.
My men are languishing from that complaint.
TEUHTLILLI
We have the cure to purge bad-hearted men.
[aside] (By god, his helmet flashes on my mind:
Dead ringer to the one our war god wears.)
[to him] May I, sir, as a token of goodwill,
Present my lord your brilliant helm?
CORTÉS You may,
If you return it filled with grains of gold.
We’ll test by trial if this New World’s veins
Are worth the circulation of the Old.
Come sir, we’ll further parley by the fire.
Escort this minister to my retreat.
Exit Alvarado, Sandoval, Teuhtlilli, and servant.
Well now, young lady. What whelp have we here?
AGUILAR Your name, child.
MALINALLI Malinalli.
AGUILAR Ah, Malina.
CORTÉS Well! Marina, then.
I’ll sponsor you, in my kind custody.
Mellifluous and honey-throated dame,
Your golden tongue must buy us a good name. All exit.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC
AGUILAR
But a happy few
Broke from our cages and were spared for slaves,
Within the warlike clutch of Na Chan Can.
My freedom have your wax and honey bought.
One stubborn soul, Guerrero, stays behind.
CORTÉS
And with slave’s ransoms, we must rescue him.
AGUILAR
He will not come.
ALVARADO You must mean “could not,” man.
What exile, broiling in the pits of hell
Is tossed a rope from heaven and will not come?
Your Spanish rusted in these humid airs.
AGUILAR
These Mayas have seduced him to their cause.
When I confronted him, he spoke to me:
“I am a wartime chieftain, and their judge,
And see how lovely are my wife and sons!”
Three handsome half-castes nestled at his hip.
“You go,” he said, “and may God go with you.
But black tattoos have spiraled round my eyes,
And broad, thick discs now pierce my ears and lips.
Would Christians welcome one so scarified?”
CORTÉS
God only scorns the scars of souls.
OLMEDO Well said.
AGUILAR
His crabbed wife waved in my face and spat:
“What grimy scarecrow dares provoke my lord?
Shove off!” But our Guerrero caught my arm.
“I’ve warned our Mayas of Castile,” he hissed.
“If Spanish visitations will be suffered,
The scabies of their ‘culture’ will erupt,
And Europe’s slow, inexorable flow
Must soon encrust and case these florid lands
As running wax will coat a candlestick.
Then must I trim Death’s wicks.”
CORTÉS What can that mean?
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC
SANDOVAL
At home, they say Death takes a female form,
And in her cave a billion candles burn
Which mark the dwindling measure of our lives-
Short stubs for the infirm, fresh spires for babes.
When our own taper sputters at the base,
This fickle life winks out.
CORTÉS What said he next?
AGUILAR
“You see our signal fire on the butte,
Whose dark clouds broadcast swift alarms for war.
If our old friends push off with crowded sails
Before those flames to embers smolder low,
Then shall they safely coast from Mayaland,
And may God blunt what mischiefs are to come.
But, if they loiter when this fire is cold,
We’ll ***** their lingering lives, for at that time
Shall I raise up my droves of rabid braves
To course this quarry like the hounds of hell.”
CORTÉS
I wish I’d that false truant in my hands,
For it will never do to leave him here.
OLMEDO
Those of the breed to grapple their own hearts
Must own that something in their soul is stirred
In answer to the awful frankness of these howls,
And if, by our own shared humanity,
We may uplift them to civility,
So might they pull our most self-searching down,
To dance, to stamp and rage. We, to resist,
Must be as much a man as they. If not,
Rebarbarism claims her wayward natures,
And our prim, mincing minuets may yet
Yield to innate impulse: leaps, bones and blood.
CORTÉS
Clear out! Our foe’s friend orders we embark,
With sails puffed by this sometime Spaniard’s threats.
These titles- “Captain,” “Chief”- these are but breath,
Yet- backed with tooth- are words which utter death.
Speed North! At merrier campfires will we rest. All exit.
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
[May 1; In a Mexican-controlled territory on the Gulf Coast.]
Enter AGUILAR and MALINALLI.
AGUILAR Blood.
MALINALLI Sangre.
AGUILAR Gold.
MALINALLI Oro.
AGUILAR War.
MALINALLI Guerra.
AGUILAR God.
MALINALLI Dios. Yo soy Marina. Yo soy traducidora. Enough lessons, Aguilar!
AGUILAR
Cortés insists you must perfect his tongue.
I’ll have succeeded once I’m obsolete.
MALINALLI
Aguilar,
Sometimes, I think of that Guerrero.
AGUILAR Why?
MALINALLI
He entered my world; now I enter his.
At first, a forced exchange, but in the end,
We both embrace our foster families,
And shall go as enigmas to our graves.
AGUILAR
Hush now, here comes that meddling Mexican.
(Enter TEUHTLILLI, with two attendants.)
MALINALLI
Where do you come from?
TEUHTLILLI
From where do I come?
From Mexico.
MALINALLI You may, or you may not.
Perhaps you tease. I know we all would like
To claim that we’re from Mexico these days.
TEUHTLILLI
I come to greet my sovereign, who is here.
MALINALLI [to Aguilar]
He says he’s here to meet his sovereign lord.
AGUILAR
You err, my dear. He must’ve said, “your lord.”
MALINALLI
In fact, he claims his king is here with us.
AGUILAR
Captain, come forth! Our emissary’s here.
And, sir- I’d look as kingly as you can.
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 10:27 PM UTC