It was a Saturday, and still quite dark,
when Juan Diego was journeying in pursuit
of things Divine
and of the Commandments.
As he reaches the neighborhood of the hillock
In the area named Tepeyac,
already Dawn is brightening.
Distinctly he hears
from the top of the hillock
a singing,
like that of varied rare birds of song.
Time and again subside those voices,
as if for the hill itself to answer.
How utterly soothing to the heart,
how cheering to the soul,
is their song,
surpassing that of the Shrillbird,
that of the Bellbird,
that of every other kind of Lovely Songbird!
Juan Diego stands still,
gazes motionless.
says to himself:
"Could it be that I be worthy?
Could it be that I deserve
what I am hearing?
Is it that I am dreaming?
Is it that I am sleep-walking?
Where am I?
Where indeed do I seem to be?"
.....
Gazing he is to the top of that hillock,
towards the Region of the Sallying Sun,
whence sallies forth also
that heavenly, lovely song.
Then suddenly ceases the song,
and hearkens he to the stillness:
then hears he a Call,
coming to him from the top of the hillock,
and saying:
"Juanito, Juan Dieguito:"
Thereupon ventures he to make his way up
to where he is being called,
Nothing of disturbance is in his heart,
nor any stunning shock;
rather is he full content with it all,
full glorying in it all,
as he clambers up the hillock,
whither he has been gazing
and whence has been coming his Call.
Upon his reaching the top of the hillock,
he catches sight of a Woman,
One Who has been taking Her stand there.
She beckons him to come on,
closer up to Herself.
Upon reaching Her Presence,
he greatly marvels
at her extreme, Her surpassing, Her perfect
Wonderfulness.
Her garments are as the Sun,
gleaming, glittering.
Even the boulder, the crag,
on which She takes Her stand
sparkles in Resplendence,
like fine Emerald Jade on a Bangle when it shines,
like the warming Glow of a Rainbow in the Gloom.
Even the soil,
the brambles and prickles
and the rest of the varied weeds
that struggle to survive there
are shining,
like Emerald, like Divine Turquoise,
to the tip of every leaf;
are glittering
like the Golden Scourings of the Gods
up every stalk and twig and thorn.
In her presence he prostrates;
he listens to Her Utterance, Her Declaration.
These are as of One Who sets others at ease,
One Who is Herself of the Gentry born,
One Whose Manner is to attract,
One Whose Attitude is esteem.
She addresses him:
"Do listen to Me,
My Littlest One, Juanito!
Whither are you betaking yourself?"
He in turn makes reply:
"My Sovereign, 0 Woman, My Maiden,
it is yonder that I am bound,
to Your Dwelling in Mexico-Tlatilolco,
in pursuit of Things Divine
which they minister to us,
which they teach to us,
those Representatives of the Person of Our Sovereign,
who are our Priests."
Forthwith She informs him,
She presents to him
Her Sacred Wish.
She addresses him:
"Do know this,
do be assured of it in your heart,
My Littlest One,
that I Myself, I am the Entirely and Ever Virgin,
Saint Mary,
Mother of the True Divinity,
of God Himself.
Because of Him, Life goes on,
Creation goes on.
His are all things afar,
His are all things near at hand,
things above in the Heavens,
things here below on the Earth.
How truly I wish it, how greatly I desire it,
that here they should erect Me My Temple!
Here would I show forth,
here would I lift up to view,
here would I make a gift of
all My Fondness for My Dear Ones,
all My Regard for My Needy Ones,
My Willingness to Aid them,
My Readiness to Protect them.
For truly I Myself,
I am your Compassionate Mother,
yours, for you yourself,
for everybody here in the Land,
for each and all together,
for all others too,
for all Folk of every kind,
who do but cherish Me,
who do but raise their voices to Me,
who do but seek Me,
who do but raise their trust to Me.
For here shall I listen to their groanings,
to their saddenings;
here shall I make well
and heal up their each and every kind
of disappointment,
of exhausting pangs,
of bitter aching pain.
But in order to realize what I have in mind
in My Regard for My Needy Ones,
do you, please,
go to the Palace of the Bishop of Mexico;
go and tell him
how it is I Myself who am commissioning you
that you should present to him
how strongly I desire it
that here he should house Me,
that here, on the level ground,
he should erect My Temple.
And give him a full account
of all you have seen and wondered at
and of whatever you have heard.
And do be assured of it in your heart
that I shall be full grateful
and that I shall repay;
for I shall enrich you
and make you prosperous
and you shall very much merit
that I compensate you
for the fatigue and the exertion
of your going of your going to procure
what I am commissioning you to do.
And so you have heard, My Littlest One,
My Utterance, My Declaration;
do, please, betake yourself
and make every effort to carry it out.;
....
Do listen,
do be assured of it in your heart,
My Littlest One,
that nothing at all should alarm you,
should trouble you,
nor in any way disturb
your countenance, your heart.
And do not be afraid of this Pestilence,
nor of any other pestilence
or any rasping hardship.
For am I not here,
I, Your Mother?
Are you not in the Cool of My Shadow?
in the Breeziness of My Shade?
Is it not I that am
your Source of Contentment?
Are you not cradled in My Mantle?
cuddled in the Crossing of My Arms?
Is there anything else for you to need?
Nothing else, though, should trouble you,
should disquiet you.
And do not let it trouble you,
this Pestilence of your Uncle's,
for he is not going to die of it now.
Do be assured of it in your heart
that he has already healed up."
....
So Juan Diego immediately went
and climbed to the top of the hillock,
and, on reaching the top,
he greatly marvelled at
all the blossoming,
all the burgeoning
of varied Castilian Garden Flowers,
in what was neither the season nor the site for then,
for this was when the Frost is severe.
Yet remarkably fragrant they were,
with nocturnal Dewdrops like precious Pearls.
Immediately he began to pick them;
full many of them he gathered
and put into the fold of his mantle.
Now that top of a hillock
was by no means a spot for Flowers to grow,
for it was all rocks, all spikes,
all thorns, all prickles, all brambles;
And if ever some weedy old plant did grow there,
this was now the month of December,
in which the Frost consumes everything,
makes everything perish.
....
0ff he went
and followed the Road of Return
into Mexico City,
heading straight along it with contented stride,
striding with heart assured
of the goodly outcome of so goodly a burden,
yet striding with full care
for what was in the fold of his mantle,
lest any of it tumble out as he strode.
Still, amid his striding he gloried
in the fragrance of those varied Garden Flowers.
....
"All the while I well knew
That that was not a site for Flowers,
there on the top of the hillock,
for it was all rocks, all spikes,
all thornbush, all prickly, all brambles.
Not that I was taken aback!
Not that I wavered
No, I reached the top of that hillock
And I gazed upon
what had become a Land of the Flowers' Bloom,
wherein were united each and every kind
of the Garden Flowers of Castile,
with the Sun gleaming on their Dewdrops.
And so I went ahead and picked them.
She told me to give them to you on Her Behalf
so that, through them, I might bring about
your seeing in them the Signal you had requested
in order for you to bring Her Wish to realization,
and so that the truth of my own word,
my own commission,
might be apparent.
Yes, here they are!
Do but deign to receive them!"
Just as he was unwrapping that white Tilma of his,
in which had lain folded those Flowers,
so as to strew them forth,
Flowers in all their Castilian variety,
suddenly, upon that Tilma,
there flashed a Portrait,
there sallied into view a Sacred Image
of that Ever Virgin Holy Mary,
Mother of God,
in the likeness it even now retains
where, even now, it is so reverently kept,
over at her Sacred Dwelling,
at Her Temple
entitled Guadalupe.
from Guadalupe From the Aztec: Selections from the Nican Mopohua
(Lafayette, OR: Guadalupe Translations, 1992).
A blessing for anyone who copies this translation
in Our Lady's Honor.
Mimeographed copies on recycled paper may be ordered from
Guadalupe Translations, P.O. Box 97, Lafayette, Oregon 97127