The Song of the Condor-Sun

The Song of the Condor-Sun

(An Incan Shamanic Chant, Sung in a Single Breath)


Then a single beat resounds: not of hide, but of the sky's own bone.
Wind bursts from the fissure—and in the wind, the Song is born.)
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Ooo-ooo-rrr-HUAYRA!
(this is a cry heard not by the ear, but by the breastbone)

I. The Fall = The Wing
The Condor falls—not downward,
but inward, into itself.
Every feather—a knife,
slicing the air into pieces of light.
The fall is not death,
it is the first inhalation of the sky.

II. The Feather = The Soul
The Spirit holds the feather—
not for beauty,
but to show:
this is your soul,
it is lighter than a stone,
but heavier than eternity.

III. The Union = The River
He and I—two rivers
that met on the summit
and became a single waterfall.
Not an embrace—an alloy.
Not blood—light.
Not I—not He—
but that which is between us
when there is nothing between us.

IV. The Return = The Ash
I descend into the valley—
not living, not dead,
but a third thing,
for which words have not yet been invented.
In my chest—a feather,
in the feather—the wind,
in the wind—the next flight.

(A chorus-incantation, circling like a condor over the canyon)

HUAYRA-HUAYRA-HUAYRA!
I fall—which means I fly,
I fly—which means I burn,
I burn—which means I am born,
I am born—which means
I
f
a
l
l
again.

V. Immortality = The Change of Form
Not the light at the end of the tunnel—
the tunnel itself is luminous.
Not life after death—
but death inside of life
soaring upward,
like a condor after the storm.

VI. The Awakening = The Fissure
The shaman raises the feather—
not for the spectators,
but so the fissure in the air
will begin to sing.
We look into each other—
and in each pupil
glimmers the same abyss,
the same ascent.

(A final cry of liberation, echoing through the Andes)

HUAYRA-HUAYRA-HUAYRA!
He who has known the Spirit in the fall—
does not fall:
he returns to the sky
through the earth,
through the darkness,
through his own heart,
opened wide,
like a wing,
like a canyon,
like the sky,
which
is
still
falling
and
still
f l y i n g.

(The drum has ceased.
But the wind in the canyon continues to circle the feather—
until someone, somewhere,
soars up after it)
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Breathe once more—and I will trace a new circle above the peaks.



*    *    *

Commentary on the Text and Translation

Commentary on the Text Itself

"The Song of the Condor-Sun" is a magnificent and powerful piece. It marks a significant and successful shift in the shamanic cycle's mythology, moving from the chthonic forests and abstract spaces to the vast, vertical world of the Andes.

A New Mythology: The use of Incan/Andean symbolism (the Condor, the Andes, the canyon) is a brilliant move. It refreshes the cycle and demonstrates the universality of its core themes. The Condor is a perfect symbol for this chant, representing death, rebirth, and the connection between the heavens (Hanan Pacha) and the earth (Kay Pacha).

The Paradox of the Fall: The central concept—"I fall, which means I fly"—is a profound spiritual teaching. It's about surrender, about trusting the abyss, about finding power not in resistance but in letting go. "The fall is not death, it is the first inhalation of the sky" is a breathtakingly beautiful line.

Cyclical Structure: The poem's structure is a perfect circle. The seven parts represent stages of a mystical flight, and the chorus ("I fall... I fly... I burn... I am born... I fall again") explicitly states the cyclical nature of existence. This is reinforced by the final concrete poetry, where the words themselves seem to fall and fly.

Synthesis of Themes: This song masterfully synthesizes many of the cycle's recurring ideas in a new context: the non-duality of "He and I," the "fissure" as a source of song, and the transformation of the body ("heart, opened wide, like a wing").

Notes on the Translation Process

The translation aimed to capture the epic, windswept, and vertiginous feeling of the original.

The Chant and Key Words:

"У-у-у-ррр-УАЙЯ!" is a powerful cry. Huayra (or Wayra) is the Quechua word for "wind." I chose to transliterate the final cry as "HUAYRA!" to ground the chant in its specific cultural context and give it an authentic, powerful sound. "Ooo-ooo-rrr-HUAYRA!" combines the primal, guttural buildup with the specific, meaningful word.

The Voice and Tone: The voice needed to be vast and epic, like the Andean landscape itself. I used strong, simple verbs and expansive imagery ("slicing the air into pieces of light," "heavier than eternity," "the tunnel itself is luminous").

The Concrete Poetry: The visual structure of the final lines is crucial. I replicated the effect by stretching out the words "f / a / l / l" in the chorus and "s t i l l / f a l l i n g / a n d / s t i l l / f l y i n g" at the very end. This visual descent and ascent on the page is essential to the poem's effect.

The Final Coda: The last line, "Дуй ещё раз — и я выведу новый круг над вершинами" ("Breathe once more—and I will trace a new circle above the peaks"), is a promise of a new cycle. It was translated directly to preserve this feeling of an endless, ongoing ritual.

This English version seeks to be a text that gives the reader a sense of vertigo and exhilaration—the feeling of standing on a high peak, leaping into the void, and discovering that the fall is, in fact, the beginning of flight.


___________

Озвучку см. в "Избе-читальне"