by Brett Rutherford
freely adapted from a poem by José Eusebio Caro (1817-1853)
I left the white men far behind —
in vain they search the canyon’s deep.
Today I have scaled Pichincha’s rim.
I pace its edge as the sun does,
wandering, passionate, and free.
in vain they search the canyon’s deep.
Today I have scaled Pichincha’s rim.
I pace its edge as the sun does,
wandering, passionate, and free.
Much’aykusqayki, Tayta Inti!
Hail, Father Sun! Though Manco’s throne,
the nearest seat on earth to your
flaming presence, lies in the dust,
though everywhere your sacred altars
groan profaned, I come alone, but free.
Hail, Father Sun! Though Manco’s throne,
the nearest seat on earth to your
flaming presence, lies in the dust,
though everywhere your sacred altars
groan profaned, I come alone, but free.
Much’aykusqayki, Tayta Inti!
Hail, Father Sun! No brand or chain
makes me a slave of any nation.
No white man shall boast he killed me —
I kill myself, and free I die!
Hail, Father Sun! No brand or chain
makes me a slave of any nation.
No white man shall boast he killed me —
I kill myself, and free I die!
Sun, when you begin to sink, this
volcano will burn and hold me.
Regard me from the distant sea
as I walk downward, resolute,
singing your hymns to lava’s brink.
volcano will burn and hold me.
Regard me from the distant sea
as I walk downward, resolute,
singing your hymns to lava’s brink.
Tomorrow, raying forth, your crown
will shine anew on the east slope,
and then at your blazing noon-time
your rays shall gild my new ashes:
some bones, some scattered beads of me,
glint of a gold armband, my bow
and ten consecrated arrows.
O Pichincha, hearth of freedom!
will shine anew on the east slope,
and then at your blazing noon-time
your rays shall gild my new ashes:
some bones, some scattered beads of me,
glint of a gold armband, my bow
and ten consecrated arrows.
O Pichincha, hearth of freedom!
Much’aykusqayki, Mallku Kuntur!
Hail, King of the Condors, come down
and make this summit your palace.
There will be scant of me to feed you,
but on my soft ash take respite,
for mate and nest and eggs anew.
And I, King of Nothing, unknown,
shall with you fly, invisible,
nameless forever, and forever free.
Hail, King of the Condors, come down
and make this summit your palace.
There will be scant of me to feed you,
but on my soft ash take respite,
for mate and nest and eggs anew.
And I, King of Nothing, unknown,
shall with you fly, invisible,
nameless forever, and forever free.
José Eusebio Caro (1817-1853) lived in New Granada (present-day Colombia), and was co-founder of his nation's first literary journal, Le Estrella National in 1836. I have added salutations in Quechua, the language of the Incas, which were not in the original poem.
Regarding the volcano named Pichincha, which is in Ecuador, Wikipedia notes, "On May 24, 1822, General Sucre's southern campaign in the Spanish–American War of independence came to a climax when his forces defeated the Spanish colonial army on the southeast slopes of this volcano. The engagement, known as the Battle of Pichincha, secured the independence of the territories of present-day Ecuador."
Photograph of Rucu Pichincha approach taken from the southeast near Quito, Ecuador in 2009. Photo by Tim Ryan, from Wikipedia.
Regarding the volcano named Pichincha, which is in Ecuador, Wikipedia notes, "On May 24, 1822, General Sucre's southern campaign in the Spanish–American War of independence came to a climax when his forces defeated the Spanish colonial army on the southeast slopes of this volcano. The engagement, known as the Battle of Pichincha, secured the independence of the territories of present-day Ecuador."
Photograph of Rucu Pichincha approach taken from the southeast near Quito, Ecuador in 2009. Photo by Tim Ryan, from Wikipedia.
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