Guinié', gabe' ya huaxhinni;

gabe' ya lu gueela'.

Tu guinienia', xi guinié'

pa guiruti' guinni ndaani' yoo

ne nisi berendxinga ribidxiaa riuaadia'ga'.

Pa guinié' ya, pa guinié' co'

tu cayabe' ya, tu cayabe' co';

paraa biree co' ne ya di ya'

ne tu canienia' lu gueela'.

Tu gudixhe ca diidxa' di' lu gui'chi'.

Xiñee rucaa binni lu gui'chi'

ne cadi lu guidxilayú:

laa naro'ba',

nalaga, naziuula'.

Xiñee qué ruca'nu' xa guibá'

guirá' ni rini' íquenu

ne riale ladxido'no.

Xiñee qué ruca'nu' lu bandaga yaa,

lu za, lu nisa,

ndaani' batananu.

Xiñee gui'chi',

paraa biree gui'chi',

gasti' cá lu,

gutaguna' diidxa' riree ruaanu,

diidxa' biruba ca bixhozególanu lu guie,

ni bí'ndacabe lu gueela'

ra biyaacabe,

ni bitieecabe guriá lídxicabe,

ndaani' xhiu'du'cabe,

ra yoo la'hui' stícabe.

Ni bedané diidxa' biropa,

bedaguuti stiidxanu ne laanu,

bedaguxhatañee binni xquídxinu,

sícasi ñácanu bicuti'

biaba lu yaga, nexhe'layú.

Tu laanu, tu lanu.

Speech. Saying yes to the night,

saying yes to darkness.

Whom to speak with, what to say

if there is no one in this house

while I feel so lonesome at the cricket's sadness?


If I say yes, if I say no:

to whom yes, to whom no?

Where did that yes and that no

come out of and with whom did I talk in that heart of darkness?


Who got these words downs on paper?

Why write on paper at all instead of on the ground?

Earth is huge, broad, extensive.


Why don't we write below the sky's

surface everything our minds speak out,

everything born in our hearts?


Why don't we write on the green leaves,

on clouds, on water,

on the palm of the hand?


Why on paper?

Where was paper born

that was born white and

imprisons our own speech,

the word our fathers sculpted among flowers,

they sang at night when they created

their dance,

they used to decorate their houses,

inside their shrines,

in their royal palaces?


Who brought that second language

coming to trample down our people

as if we were maggots fallen from trees,

scattered over the ground?


Who are we? What is our name?


English version:Nathaniel Tarn, The Taos Review, Premier Issue, Taos, New Mexico, 1989.