Popol Vuh - sacred book of the quiché maya people
Published on: Mar 4, 2016
Transcripts - Popol Vuh - sacred book of the quiché maya people
Sacred Book of the Quiché Maya People
Translation and Commentary by
Allen J. Christenson
2007 Popol Vuh: Sacred Book of the Quiché Maya People. Electronic version of original 2003 publication.
To my wife, Janet
Xa at nu saqil, at nu k'aslemal
Chib'e q'ij saq
This volume is the culmination of nearly twenty-five years of collaboration with friends and
colleagues who have been more than generous with their time, expertise, encouragement, and
at times, sympathy. It has become a somewhat clichéd and expected thing to claim that a
work would not be possible without such support. It is nonetheless true, at least from my
experience, and I am indebted to all those who helped move the process along.
First and foremost, I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to my Maya teachers,
colleagues, and friends who have selflessly devoted their time and knowledge to help carry
out this project. Without their efforts, none of it would have ever gotten off the ground. I
would like to particularly recognize in this regard don Vicente de León Abac, who, with
patience and kindness, guided me through the complexity and poetry of K'iche' theology and
ceremonialism. Without his wisdom, I would have missed much of the beauty of ancestral
vision that is woven into the very fabric of the Popol Vuh. I dearly miss him. I would also like
to acknowledge the profound influence that Antonio Ajtujal Vásquez had on this work. It
was his kind and gentle voice that I often heard when I struggled at times to understand the
ancient words of this text. Others who have aided this work include Diego Chávez Petzey,
Nicolás Chávez Sojuel, Felix Choy, Gregorio Chuc, Juan Mendoza, Francisco Mendoza, and
I am deeply indebted to Jim Mondloch for his extraordinary generosity in offering to read
through the translation. His depth of knowledge with regard to K'iche' grammar, syntax, and
modern usage were invaluable. I purchased a copy of his “Basic Quiché Grammar” in 1976 to
help in my quest to learn the language at a time when such aids were very rare. The book was
a steadfast friend and companion during the next few years. Not only was it a brilliant work
but it proved to be just the size and weight to dispatch mosquitos on the wall of my adobe
shack. I thus owe to him, not only much of my initial knowledge of the K'iche' language, but
my red blood cell count in those days as well.
I am also grateful to John Robertson for his guidance, particularly with regard to the
orthography of the text. He was a patient educator to me when I began work with the K'iche'
language nearly twenty-five years ago, helping to prepare a dictionary and grammar. He was
an ideal boss and a wise teacher. It is a great honor for me to occupy the office next door to
his at the university.
I am sincerely indebted to my friend and colleague Ruud van Akkeren who went to
extraordinary lengths to share with me his profound understanding of highland Maya
ethnohistory. I value his knowledge, experience, and generosity in reading through various
versions of this volume and offering his insights.
As in much of what I do that is of worth in the academic world, I acknowledge the
influence of my mentor, Linda Schele. As a graduate student, Linda encouraged me to
complete the translation of the Popol Vuh at a time when I was content to throw up my
hands after I had worked through the mythic sections. It was her love for the Maya people
and passion for their language that reminded me why we take on overwhelming tasks such as
this, and why it’s worth the price in life and heart that we put into them.
Among the many who have contributed in invaluable ways to this project, I would like to
recognize with my sincerest thanks the following individuals: Claude Baudez, Karen Bassie,
James Brady, Linda Brown, Margaret Bruchez, Michael Carrasco, Garrett Cook, Doris Dant,
John Early, Sam Edgerton, Enrique Florescano, John Fox, David Freidel, Stephen Houston,
Kerry Hull, Julia G. Kappelman, Peter Keeler, Justin Kerr, Bob Laughlin, Bruce Love, John
Monaghan, Dorie Reents-Budet, Julia Sanchez, Joel Skidmore, Carolyn Tate, Mark Van
Stone, Bob Walch, Andrew Weeks, Jack Welch, and Diane Wirth.
I would also like to thank my graduate students who keep me constantly on my toes and
challenged with their curiosity and energy. Among these students, Spencer Jardine helped
with the initial transcription of the text used in this volume, and Scott Brian created the
beautiful maps. I am indebted to them for their efforts.
A little over twenty years ago I helped to compile a dictionary in the Quiché-Maya language
in the mountains of northwestern Guatemala near a small village called Chihul. At the time,
Quiché was almost completely an orally-communicated language, with very few native
speakers who could read or write it. One summer evening, after a long day of work with one
of my best sources, I realized that I had lost track of time and needed to hurry down to the
valley where I had a small home before it got dark. The region had no electricity and hiking
steep mountain trails at night was dangerous, particularly because of the numerous packs of
wild (and often rabid) dogs that roamed freely about. I therefore started down a small
footpath that appeared to be a more direct route than the usual winding road taken by buses.
About a third the way down the mountainside, I passed an isolated adobe and thatch
house built in a clearing surrounded by pine forest. A small group of men were seated on a
low wooden bench in front of the house conversing. When they saw me, they called out a
greeting and beckoned me to join them. After introductions were properly exchanged, a
requirement in formal Quiché conversation, I was offered a warm cup of toasted corn coffee
and a space on the bench was opened up for me to sit down.
One of the men had heard that there was a fair-skinned young man that people called
raqän us (mosquito legs) who was visiting in Chihul, and he asked if that would be me. My
name is difficult to pronounce in Quiché, so I had been given that rather unfortunate
nickname, derived no doubt from my lanky physique in those days. I told him that I was the
one they had heard about. They asked what I was doing, and I explained that I was interested
in collecting the words of his people so that I could carry them with me back to my own
town beyond the mountains to the north. Another of the men was curious as to how I could
“collect” words and carry them away, since he assumed that his language could only be
spoken, not written.
Quichés in that area had, of course, seen documents and books like the Bible written in
Spanish but had little conception at that time that it was possible to use phonetic letters to
record their own language. This is a great tragedy, because until about five hundred years ago
the Maya were the most literate people in the Americas, preserving their history and culture
with a sophisticated hieroglyphic script in hundreds of folded screen books. The Spanish
conquest in the early sixteenth century was a devastating blow to Maya literacy in Mexico
and Guatemala. Christian missionaries burned great numbers of hieroglyphic texts in an
attempt to eradicate indigenous religious practices. Native scribes were singled out for
persecution to such an extent that within one hundred years, the art of hieroglyphic writing
had virtually disappeared from among the Maya people.
My new friends were therefore very interested in the notes I had written that day in their
language. Excited by the possibility of preserving their own thoughts in written form, they
asked me to demonstrate how to write a number of words and phrases. After writing a few
phrases for them in Quiché, I asked the oldest of them if he would like me to write something
for him. He said that he did and I waited a long time for the words he wished me to write.
Finally he asked me to record a few brief words of counsel for his son. I didn’t know it at the
time but his five year old boy was the last of twelve children, all of whom had died in
childhood, mostly to tuberculosis. That week his last surviving child had begun to cough up
blood and he knew that his hope for posterity would inevitably die with him.
By this time I knew I would never make it down to the valley before dark so my elderly
friend invited me to stay in his corn loft. Before the others left for the night, I asked if they
would like to hear the words of their fathers. This was greeted with indulgent smiles of
disbelief, since few of their parents were alive and they were sure that I couldn’t have known
them. But I told them that it wasn’t their fathers’ words that I carried with me, but rather
those of their fathers’ fathers’ (repeated many times) fathers, dating back nearly five hundred
years. I happened to have with me a copy of the Popol Vuh manuscript, a book that was
compiled in the mid-sixteenth century at a town that still exists less than thirty miles from
where we sat. I began to read from the first page of the book:
THIS IS THE ACCOUNT of when all is still silent and placid. All is silent and calm.
Hushed and empty is the womb of the sky.
THESE, then, are the first words, the first speech. There is not yet one person, one
animal, bird, fish, crab, tree, rock, hollow, canyon, meadow, or forest. All alone the sky
exists. The face of the earth has not yet appeared. Alone lies the expanse of the sea,
along with the womb of all the sky. There is not yet anything gathered together. All is at
rest. Nothing stirs. All is languid, at rest in the sky. There is not yet anything standing
erect. Only the expanse of the water, only the tranquil sea lies alone. There is not yet
anything that might exist. All lies placid and silent in the darkness, in the night.
All alone are the Framer and the Shaper, Sovereign and Quetzal Serpent, They Who
Have Borne Children and They Who Have Begotten Sons. Luminous they are in the
water, wrapped in quetzal feathers and cotinga feathers. (Popol Vuh, pp. 67-69)
After I had read a page or two from the account of the creation of the earth, I stopped and
waited for their reaction. No one spoke for some time. Finally, the elderly man with the sick
boy asked if he might hold the unbound pages of the manuscript copy for a moment. He
gently took it from my hands and with great care turned its pages.
“These are the words of my ancient fathers?” he asked.
“Do you know what you have done for them?” I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, so I
didn’t answer at first. “You make them live again by speaking their words.”
The word he used was k'astajisaj, meaning “to cause to have life,” or “to resurrect.” The
written word has the power to survive the death of its author, to preserve the most precious
souvenirs of human existence—thoughts, hopes, ideals, and acquaintance with the sacred. We
tend to take writing for granted. The Maya do not. The ability to write words and have them
preserved long after the death of the author is a miracle.
Many of the larger highland Maya communities possess wooden chests containing books
and clothing owned by their ancestors which they revere as precious relics. These objects are
said to bear the k'ux, or “heart” of the ancestors. On special occasions, the contents are
removed ceremonially to “feed” them with offerings of incense and prayers. Many of these
books are of great antiquity. I attended the opening of one of these old chests in the town of
Santiago Atitlán which contained a number of loose manuscript pages, birth and death
registries, and several bound leather books, one of which I could see was a seventeenth
When brought out into the open, such books are reverently offered incense and prayers,
but no attempt is made to open them or read them. Partly this is because few contemporary
Maya know how to read the early script of the colonial period, and partly out of respect for
the words themselves. When the words of the ancestors are read, or spoken aloud, it is as if
that person had returned from death to speak again. Reading ancient texts is therefore a very
delicate matter, filled with peril if the words are not treated with sufficient respect.
While working as an ethnographer and translator in the Guatemalan highlands, I
collaborated with a number of Maya shaman-priests called aj q'ijab' (they of days, or
daykeepers). Prior to reading the words of ancient Maya manuscripts like the Popol Vuh, it
was customary for one of them, don Vicente de León Abac of Momostenango, to first purify
my xeroxed copy of the text by waving copal incense smoke over it and asking forgiveness of
the ancestors who had written the original for disturbing them. When I asked why he did this,
he replied that to read the thoughts of ancient ancestors is to make their spirits present in the
room and give them a living voice. Such power must be approached with great seriousness,
and all care taken to be faithful to their original ideas in any transcription or translation. At
the end of our work sessions, he politely dismissed the gods and ancestors involved in that
day’s reading with his thanks and asked pardon for any offense we might have given.
Most of the people who lived on the American continents prior to the arrival of
Europeans lacked a written script. Even in Mesoamerica, where there was a long tradition of
hieroglyphic writing among some of the ancient cultures of the region, such as the Maya and
Zapotecs, other neighboring cultures preserved their history and theology principally through
the spoken word, passed from generation to generation. This was true even of highly
sophisticated cultures such as the Aztecs, whose painted texts relied primarily on a rebus or
picture form of writing incapable of recording abstract ideas phonetically. Yet the concept of
oral poetry held by the Aztecs is exemplary of the view of such discourse throughout
Mesoamerica, including the Maya.
For the ancient Aztecs the highest form of sacred communication was poetry, what they
called xochicuicatl (“flower-song”). These were delicately beautiful hymns meant to be recited
orally, often to musical accompaniment. In paintings, Aztec poets are depicted with speech
scrolls issuing from their mouths. These scrolls are often colored a rich blue or green,
symbolic of the precious nature of the poets’ words as if they were composed of jade or
sacred quetzal feathers. Aztecs looked upon poetry as the actualization of a creative act
inspired by divinites who were called upon to be present at the performance. Thus the poet
Ayocuan Cuetzpaltzin of Tecamachalco believed that his songs came from heaven, but
lamented that his own words could not express them as they came undefiled from the gods:
From within the heavens they come,
The beautiful flowers, the beautiful songs.
Our longing spoils them,
Our inventiveness makes them lose their fragrance. (León-Portilla 1980, 257)
Such songs exist only at the moment of their performance, their sound hanging briefly in
the air, then fading to silence. It is only when they are spoken that they reveal their divine
origin, transforming the poet into a messenger of deity:
Now I am going to forge songs,
Make a stem flowering with songs,
Oh my friends!
God has sent me as a messenger.
I am transformed into a poem. (León-Portilla 1969, 80)
Most poems were learned by heart and were lost forever if forgotten. Thus Aztec poetry
had no permanent reality of its own, no more than a dream. It is only by an accident of
history that we know of them at all. Soon after the Spanish conquest of the Aztec empire in
1521, a few Spanish missionaries such as Fr. Andrés de Olmos and Fr. Bernardino de Sahagún
attempted to preserve long transcriptions of ancient Aztec history, theology, and poetry
utilizing the Latin script. Olmos and Sahagún relied for these accounts on elderly members of
the Aztec nobility who had memorized them in their youth. Unfortunately these invaluable
books were vigorously suppressed soon after their completion for fear that the Indians would
learn of them and use them as an excuse to revert to their former paganism. Sahagún himself
faced censure in 1577 for his work during the reign of King Philip II, who ordered his
representative in Mexico to gather all copies of Sahagún’s transcriptions of Aztec texts and
secrete them away:
It seems that it is not proper that this book be published or disseminated in those
places.... We thus command that, upon receiving this Cedula, you obtain these books with
great care and diligence; that you make sure that no original or copy of them is left there;
and that you have them sent in good hands at the first opportunity to our Council of
Indies in order that they may be examined there. And you are warned absolutely not to
allow any person to write concerning the superstitions and ways of life of these Indians in
any language, for this is not proper to God’s service and to ours. (León-Portilla 1980,
The Spanish authorities realized that preserving a record of the literary heritage of the
Aztecs constituted an intolerable danger to their own political and religious domination of the
region. By suppressing cultural memory, missionaries could more effectively extirpate it from
the life of the people they sought to convert to Christianity.
The suppression of indigenous culture was far more difficult among the Maya who did not
have to rely on the spoken word to preserve their literary heritage. More than fifteen hundred
years prior to the Spanish conquest, the Maya developed a sophisticated hieroglyphic script
capable of recording complex literary compositions, both on folded screen codices made of
bark paper as well as texts incised on more durable stone or wood. The importance of
preserving written records was a hallmark of Maya culture as witnessed by the thousands of
known hieroglyphic inscriptions, many more of which are still being discovered in the jungles
of southern Mexico and northern Central America.
Being a phonetic script rather than a pictorial form of writing, Maya hieroglyphs were
capable of recording any idea that could be spoken. Ancient Maya scribes were among the
most honored members of creative society. They were often important representatives of the
royal family, and as such were believed to carry the seeds of divinity within their blood.
Among the titles given to artists and scribes in Classic period Maya inscriptions were itz’aat
(“sage”) and miyaatz (“wise one”). In an important royal tomb at Tikal (Burial 116), an
incised bone depicts a deified scribe’s hand emerging from the gullet of an open-mouthed
creature. In Classic Maya art, the open jaws represent a portal that leads from this world to
the world of the gods. In his or her hand is a calligraphic paintbrush used to both write and
illustrate the ancient Maya codex books. The message of this incised bone is that the
activities of the scribe come closest to those of the gods themselves, who paint the realities of
this world as divine artists.
The Spanish conquest of the Maya region in the sixteenth century resulted in the abrupt
destruction of indigenous political power as well as many of its cultural institutions.
Christianity was formally established in Guatemala in 1534 under Bishop Francisco
Marroquín, who sent out priests with portable altars to the various highland Maya towns
and villages in an effort to baptize the indigenous population and to destroy any remnants of
“idolatry” that they might find. Ancient temples, as well as the carved and painted images
which they contained, were systematically destroyed, their stones used to build Christian
churches. Missionaries singled out hieroglyphic codices for destruction in an effort to protect
the Indians from their former religious beliefs. Alonso de Zorita wrote that in 1540 he saw
numerous such books in the Guatemalan highlands which “recorded their history for more
than eight hundred years back, and which were interpreted for me by very ancient Indians”
(Zorita 1963, 271-2). Fr. Bartolomé de las Casas lamented that when found, such books were
These books were seen by our clergy, and even I saw part of those which were burned
by the monks, apparently because they thought [they] might harm the Indians in matters
concerning religion, since at that time they were at the beginning of their conversion.
(Las Casas 1958, 346)
One of the most zealous of these early missionaries was Fr. Diego de Landa who burned
hundreds of ancient Maya books while serving as the bishop at Maní in northern Yucatán:
We found a large number of books of these characters, and as they contained nothing
in which there were not to be seen superstition and lies of the devil, we burned them all,
which they regretted to an amazing degree and which caused them much affliction.
(Landa 1941, 78)
Of the numerous hieroglyphic books that once existed in the Maya lowlands, all that
escaped the Spanish purges of the sixteenth century are four incomplete codices. Of those
written in the highlands of Guatemala, not a single Precolumbian codex is known to have
But these tragic acts of destruction did not mean that Maya literacy ended with the arrival
of the Europeans. Soon after the Spanish conquest, literate members of the highland Maya
nobility made a number of transcriptions of their Precolumbian books utilizing a modified
Latin script in an effort to preserve what they could of their recorded history and culture
before they could be destroyed or lost. By far the most important extant example of such a
transcription is the Popol Vuh, a lengthy document composed by anonymous members of the
Quiché-Maya aristocracy in Guatemala soon after the fall of their capital city to the Spanish
conquerors. The authors of the manuscript described the text as an ilb'al (instrument of sight)
by which the reader may “envision” the thoughts and actions of the gods and sacred ancestors
from the beginning of time and into the future. The opening chapters of the Popol Vuh
describe the creation of all things as if it were occuring in the immediate present, time folding
back upon itself to transport the reader into the primordial waters of chaos at the very
moment the first land emerged:
THIS IS THE ACCOUNT of when all is still silent and placid. All is silent and calm.
Hushed and empty is the womb of the sky.... The face of the earth has not yet appeared.
Alone lies the expanse of the sea, along with the womb of all the sky. There is not yet
anything gathered together. All is at rest. Nothing stirs. (Popol Vuh, p. 67)
This passage is written in present progressive tense, suggesting that the narrator sees it
before him as he writes. This is consistent with the way stories are told in contemporary
Quiché households. The storyteller invites the listener to imagine the setting of his tale, and
nearly always tells the story as if it were happening right then, even if it happened in the
distant or mythic past.
The text of the Popol Vuh was kept hidden by indigenous elders for centuries in the town
of Chichicastenango in Guatemala. So successful were these efforts to preserve early Colonial
texts that two hundred years after the Conquest, a Spanish priest living in Chichicastenango
named Francisco Ximénez wrote that the people of that town possessed many ancient books,
including the manuscript of the Popol Vuh. Ximénez wrote that these books were kept in
secret so that local Christian authorities would not learn of them. Far from being forgotten
tales, he found that these texts were “the doctrine which they first imbibed with their
mother’s milk, and that all of them knew it almost by heart” (Ximénez 1929-31, I.i.5).
Ximénez was able to convince the elders who kept the Popol Vuh manuscript to allow him to
borrow it for the purpose of making a copy.
After Ximénez made his copy, the original text was presumably given back to the Maya
although it has not been seen since the early 1700s. Today we, in the Western world, know of
this great book only through Ximénez’s transcription, which has become one of the principal
resources used by European and American scholars who study Maya history and theology. It
is unfortunate, however, that the great majority of Maya people have not had access to it for
centuries in their own language. Literacy has slowly eroded away among the contemporary
Maya such that few are literate in their native tongue. The sacred records of the Maya were
forcibly taken from them and destroyed in the fires of the Spanish conquest. It is only in the
past hundred years or so that fragments of what they have lost are beginning to be
rediscovered and read widely. For the Maya each ancient word, whether read or spoken
aloud, is life-giving in its power to reach across the centuries. The Maya people can
understand the preciousness of such documents in ways that we who have never been denied
literacy can hardly imagine.
In preparing this translation of the Popol Vuh, I often remembered that evening near
Chihul when I had the opportunity to read passages from this great book to its authors’
descendents. The words were meant for them, not me. In translating the text, I have tried to
bear in mind that this process gives voice to the ancients so that their words may be heard
again. It is my sincerest hope that I have been faithful to their voices.
This work is published in two volumes. The first consists of an English translation of the
Popol Vuh with commentary aimed at elucidating the meaning of the text in light of
contemporary highland Maya speech and practices, as well as current scholarship in Maya
linguistics, archaeology, ethnography, and art historical iconography. No text can be
translated from one language into another without losing a certain amount of the beauty and
nuance of the original. The poet Stéphane Mallarmé felt that his poetry should never be
translated because the symbolism, flow, and sound of the words were so closely bound to the
French language. To convey even a portion of the associated meaning that colored his poems
would require extensive explanatory notes, and for Mallarmé “to name an object is to
suppress three-quarters of the enjoyment to be found in the poem, which consists in the
pleasure of discovering things little by little: suggestion, that is the dream” (Lucie-Smith
To a great extent, this is also true of the language found in the Popol Vuh, which is replete
with esoteric language, plays on words, and phrases chosen for their sound and rhythm as
much as for their meaning. I’ve tried to adhere as closely as possible to the tone and syntax of
the Quiché text, however, certain liberties are unavoidable in order to make the narrative
understandable in the English language. For example, the Quiché language stresses passive
verb constructions, which when translated into European languages are difficult to follow.
The authors of the Popol Vuh also routinely used passive forms to create gerunds that are
hopelessly awkward in English. Thus, the words “manifestation, declaration, and expression”
in lines 11-13 are actually written, “its being manifested, its being declared, its being
To partially compensate for the inadequacy of a grammatic English version to adhere
precisely to the wording of the original, the second volume of this work contains a “literal”
word for word translation of the text. I have chosen to use this arrangement because I believe
that language is reflective of the flavor of the culture that utilizes it. When the original
phraseology and grammatical construction of the ancient text is preserved, subtle nuances of
meaning become evident. The first line of the Popol Vuh declares the book to be u xe' ojer tzij,
which may be translated literally as “its root ancient word.” The phrase indicates that this is
the beginning of the ancient history of the Quiché people. The remainder of the book is thus
seen as growing like a plant from this “root.” The imagery is a beautiful expression of the
Quiché world view as an agricultural society.
One of my hopes for this project was to make the original Quiché text of the Popol Vuh
available to the Quiché people themselves in a form that is consistent with the modern script
taught in the Guatemalan school system. I have therefore utilized in the literal translation an
entirely new transcription of the original Quiché text using modern orthography. I have also
included a transcription of the Latin orthographic version of the Popol Vuh as it was written
by its Quiché authors in the sixteenth century for comparative purposes.
The Popol Vuh is the most important example of Precolumbian Maya literature to have
survived the Spanish conquest. Its significance may be seen in the numerous versions of the
text that have been published. In the past three hundred years, the Popol Vuh has been
translated approximately thirty times into seven languages. Unfortunately most of these
translations were not based on the original Quiché-Maya text, but rather on various Spanish
versions derived from it. The translation contained in this book is entirely new, based
primarily on my own knowledge of the language, as well as dictionaries and grammars
compiled in the last century by García Elgueta (1892, ca. 1900, ca. 1910), Sáenz de Santa
María (1940), León (1954), Edmonson (1965), Alvarado López (1975), Mondloch and
Hruska (1975), Siméon (1977), García Hernández and Yac Sam (1980), Ajpacaja Tum, Chox
Tum, Tepaz Raxuleu and Guarchaj Ajtzalam (1996), López Ixcoy (1997), Pérez Mendoza
and Hernández Mendoza (2000), and Par Sapón and Can Pixabaj (2000). I have also relied on
consultations with native Quiché speakers in the highland Guatemalan towns of
Momostenango (and the surrounding aldeas of Santa Ana, Canquixaja, Nimsitu, and Panca),
Totonicapán (and its aldeas of Nimasak, Chuxchimal, and Cerro de Oro), Nahuala, Cunen
(and its aldeas of Los Trigales, Xesacmalha, Xetzak, Las Grutas, Chitu, and Xepom), and
It is fortunate in this regard that the Quiché language has changed surprisingly little in the
centuries since the Popol Vuh was composed. With important exceptions, most of the
vocabulary is still understandable to modern Quichés. For terms and phrases associated with
Maya religion and ritual, I have also worked with a number of Quiché aj q'ijab', who continue
to conduct traditional calendric and divinatory rites in a manner little different from that
practiced at the time the Popol Vuh was compiled. I am particularly indebted to don Vicente
de León Abac of Momostenango for his wisdom and patience with me in this regard.
For archaic and non-Maya loan words which are no longer used by modern Quichés, I
have relied on dictionaries, grammars, and theological treatises prepared by Spanish priests in
the early Colonial period, principally those compiled by Fr. Domingo de Vico (ca. 1555),
Bishop Francisco Marroquín (ca. 1560), Fr. Alonso de Molina (1571), Fr. Marcos Martínez
(ca. 1575), Fr. Antonio de Ciudad Real (ca. 1590), Fr. Thomás de Coto (ca. 1656), Fr.
Bartolomé de Anléo (ca. 1660), Fr. Tomás de Santo Domingo (ca. 1690), Fr. Benito de
Villacañas (1692), Fr. Domingo de Basseta (ca. 1698), Fr. Francisco de Vare[l]a (1699), Fr.
Francisco Ximénez (ca. 1701-4), Fr. Pantaleón de Guzmán (1704), Fr. Damián Delgado
(1725), Fr. Francisco Herrera (1745), and Fr. Angel (ca. 1775).
Translation is an art whose cloth is woven from a variety of threads. Any defects are
solely the fault of the weaver. Its beauty is solely dependent on the threads themselves.
Allen J. Christenson
Provo, December 27, 2002
The Popol Vuh was written by anonymous members of the Quiché-Maya nobility, a branch
of the Maya that dominated the highlands of western Guatemala prior to the arrival of
Spanish conquerors in 1524. Their present population is something over half a million, spread
thinly through a series of market towns and smaller agricultural villages in the modern
Guatemalan states of Quiché, Totonicapán, and Quetzaltenango. Their homeland is some of
the most beautiful country in the world, dominated by a range of high mountains, volcanoes,
and steep-walled plateaus, wrapped in green pine forest, and watered by numerous rivers and
waterfalls. Its high elevation keeps the climate comfortably cool in the summer, while its
location in the tropics prevents the extreme cold temperatures usually associated with
mountainous environments. Guatemala’s boast of being the “Land of Eternal Spring” is no
Although the highland Maya have lived in this area for more than two thousand years, the
Popol Vuh suggests that they came to be dominated by a militaristic group of relative
newcomers, led by the Cavec-Quiché lineage, who claimed to have come from somewhere in
the East where the sun rises (Popol Vuh, pp. 204-205), likely the Maya lowlands during the
early Postclassic phase (ca. AD 900-1200). During this period of history, many of the most
important Maya ruling lineages throughout the region were multilingual and heavily
influenced by ideas from beyond their borders, particularly from Nahua speakers, the
language of central Mexico. According to Bernardino de Sahagún, a Spanish priest who
worked among the Aztecs soon after the Spanish conquest, the lowland Maya area was
known as Nonoualcat (land of the dumb) because it was occupied by non-Nahua speakers,
although he asserted that many could speak Nahua as a second language (Sahagún 1959-63,
Book X, 170; cf. Carmack 1981, 46). Nahua, the language of the Toltecs and later Aztecs, had
become a kind of lingua franca among elite groups throughout Mesoamerica by the last
centuries prior to the Spanish conquest. The highland Maya in particular remembered the
legendary Toltecs, the ruling class of central Mexico in the early Postclassic period, as the
greatest of artists and sages (Popol Vuh, p. 80n.102) and adopted many Nahua words that
reflect political as well as esoteric ceremonial concepts.
In the Terminal Classic (AD 800-900) and Early Postclassic (AD 900-1200) phases,
central Mexican influence spread rapidly through much of Mesoamerica (Thompson 1970,
18-21; Fox 1978, 274). The most impressive center of Mexican influence in the Maya world
during this time was Chichen Itza, located in the northern region of the Yucatán Peninsula.
Diego de Landa, one of the first Spanish priests to work among the Maya of Yucatán, was
told that the city was visited by a non-Maya priest-ruler who came from across the Gulf of
Mexico named Kukulcan (Yucatec: “Feathered Serpent”). This legend dovetails well with
similar myths recorded in Aztec sources concerning the Toltec priest-ruler Topiltzin
Quetzalcoatl who sailed across the Gulf of Mexico toward Yucatán at approximately the
same time (ca. AD 978 according to Aztec chronicles) (Landa 1941, 20-23; Coe 1987, 132).
Yet central Mexican influences at Chichen Itza are much older than this legendary visit by
Kukulcan. The supposedly Toltec-inspired Great Ballcourt at Chichen was dedicated on a
date corresponding to November 18, 864, and current archaeological evidence indicates that all
of the principal buildings of the city were completed well-before AD 1000 (Schele and
Mathews 1998, 200).
Rather than the result of a single event, such as the arrival of Kukulcan, central Mexican
influence in the Maya world should be seen as a long continuum of mutual interaction
extending back to at least the third or fourth century with the arrival of merchants and
perhaps military invaders from the great central Mexican city of Teotihuacan. There is clear
evidence of the presence of armed warriors from Teotihuacan who arrived at the largest of
lowland Maya centers, Tikal, in AD 378. There the foreigners oversaw the establishment of a
new dynasty of heavily Mexican-influenced rulers, if not Teotihuacanos themselves (Martin
and Grube 2000, 29-36). That this was no isolated event is attested by the presence at about
the same time of Teotihuacan architectural, ceramic, and artistic influences throughout the
Maya world, particularly in the Guatemalan highlands centered at the major site of
Kaminaljuyu (Kidder, Jennings, and Shook 1946; Sanders 1977; Michels 1979; Hatch 1997)
and in the Tiquisate area (Hellmuth 1975, 1987; Bove 1989).
Despite these influences from central Mexico, Tikal and its neighbors maintained their
fundamentally Maya character and within a brief time reestablished their own native
dynasties. Chichen Itza as well, notwithstanding its taste for central Mexican motifs and
concepts, was also likely ruled by native Maya lineages. Their claims to “Toltec” ancestry
were part of the political climate of the age where such legendary Mexican connections were
essential to establishing legitimacy based on ancient precedent. Schele and Mathews suggest
that the Itza-Maya rulers of Chichen Itza used central Mexican imagery as a means of
proclaiming themselves the legitimate inheritors of Toltec power in the same way that kings
throughout Europe declared themselves to be successors to the Holy Roman Empire,
regardless of their familial and social histories (Schele and Mathews 1998, 201). Indeed the
Cavec Quiché lineage that produced the Popol Vuh likely had Itza-Maya connections
(Akkeren 2000). Chichen Itza dominated the Yucatán peninsula and southern Gulf Coast
regions, establishing a tradition of Toltec-inspired power and spiritual mystique that
persisted long after Toltec rule, centered at Tula Hidalgo, collapsed in approximately the
twelfth century. By the time of the Spanish conquest nearly all Maya rulers prided
themselves on their Nahua/Toltec heritage (Morley, Brainerd and Sharer 1983, 166).
The ruling lineages of highland Guatemala were no exception. The Popol Vuh claims that
the divine creators who formed the first ancestors of the Quichés were Aj Toltecat (Toltecs)
(p. 80n.102; line 568). The text also emphasizes that the Quichés were “brothers” with the
Yaqui (a general term for Nahua speakers) of Mexico and that the Quichés’ principal god,
Tohil, was in fact equivalent to the Mexican god Quetzalcoatl (Nahua: “Feathered Serpent”)
(p. 231). This affinity for foreign Mexican culture helps to explain the many Nahua loan
words in the Popol Vuh (Campbell 1970, 8; Carmack 1983, 17-18).
According to the Popol Vuh, the founders of the various Quichean lineages traveled a great
distance eastward “across the sea” to an epi-Toltec city called Tulan Zuyva where they
received their titular gods and tokens of kingship (pp. 209-212, 256-259). Tulan is a Nahua
word meaning “place of reeds,” or more broadly “city,” in the sense that it is filled with a
great multitude of people as reeds crowd the shores of a lake or river. Many major Toltec-
influenced ceremonial and administrative centers were therefore called Tulan. As a result, it is
difficult to identify precisely which Tulan the Quiché progenitors saw as the origin of their
power, although it was likely located somewhere on the Yucatán Peninsula (Carmack 1981,
48; Akkeren 2003). Chichen Itza, or its successor Mayapan, are good possibilities for this
Carmack suggests that the founders of the Quiché ruling lineages arrived in Guatemala
about the time of Chichen Itza’s collapse, which Yucatec Maya histories date around AD
1221. More recent archaeological evidence suggests that this date should be pushed back
significantly in time, and that, in any case, the ultimate downfall of the city was preceded by
a long period of decline after the tenth century (Morley, Brainerd, and Sharer 1983, 167;
Schele and Mathews 1998, 197-255; Akkeren 2000, 314-315). Chichen Itza had been the
dominant force in the lowland Maya world. Its collapse disrupted the traditional politics and
interregional trade of the region, resulting in the displacement of numerous groups of people
seeking new power bases and economic opportunities (Fox 1978, 2). Many of these groups
claimed authority based on the old Mexican-influenced symbols of power and prestige (Roys
1967, 88-98; Schele and Mathews 1998). It is possible that elements of what would become
the ruling Cavec-Quiché lineage and related highland Maya progenitors were part of this
Thus, at Tulan, the founding lineages of the various highland Maya kingdoms were given
their titular gods, as well as tokens of “Toltec” rule (many of which bore Nahua language
names) and commissioned to leave in search of places to conquer (pp. 213, 257-260).
Numerous highland Maya documents speak of this pilgrimage to Tulan as a means of securing
tokens of power and legitimacy. This account is from the Annals of the Cakchiquels:
Then we arrived at Tulan in the darkness and in the night. Then we gave the tribute,
when the seven tribes and the warriors carried the tribute. We took our places in order at
the left part of Tulan.... And after the seven tribes had arrived, we the warriors came. So
they said. And commanding us to come, they said to us, our mothers, and our fathers:
“Go, my daughters, my sons. I will give you your wealth, your domain; I will give you
your power and your majesty, your canopy and your throne. Thus shall they pay tribute
to you.... Truly, your glory shall be great. You shall not be disparaged. You shall become
great with the wealth of the wooden shields. Do not sleep and you shall conquer, my
daughters, my sons! I will give your domain to you, the thirteen chiefs, to all of you
equally: your bows, your shields, your domain, your majesty, your greatness, your canopy,
and your throne. These are your first treasures.” Thus they spoke to the Quichés when
the thirteen groups of warriors arrived at Tulan. (Recinos and Goetz 1953, 50)
The authors of the Popol Vuh wrote that their brethren scattered in many different
directions after departing from Tulan (pp. 230-232). Indeed, the Quichés described their
ancestors more as refugees than as well-prepared and organized military colonists:
This is what preoccupied their hearts as they passed through their great afflictions.
They did not have food or sustenance. They would only sniff the bottoms of their staffs
to feel as if they were eating. But they did not eat when they came. (p. 221)
As outlined in the text, the Quiché forefathers were gradually able to dominate most of
western Guatemala and set up their own militaristic kingdom which ultimately extended from
the Pacific Coast in the west to the borders of the Petén rain forest in the east. The Quichés
soon adopted the language and traditions of the more numerous highland Maya inhabitants of
the places they conquered, retaining only a few lowland Maya and Nahua words which had
no local equivalent, particularly those related to military, political, and theological concepts.
The Popol Vuh account of a simultaneous mass migration of all the major Quichean lineage
groups into the Guatemalan highlands should not be taken literally. Rather, this was more
likely a slow process carried out over a period of several centuries involving a complex series
of historical and social interactions (Carmack 1981, 43-74). Indeed, many of these lineages
had always lived in the highlands, although their authority to exercise military or political
authority may have been obtained from outside centers of power. The confederation of
people known as the Quiché was more likely a complex and linguistically diverse group of
lineages composed of native highland Maya, Mexicanized clans from nearby Pacific Coastal
areas, and immigrants (particularly the Cavec) from the Maya lowlands (Akkeren 2000). The
interrelationship between these groups was dynamic and changed significantly over time. The
Popol Vuh does not contain what we would call “objective history.” It is instead a collection
of traditions, partly based in historical fact and partly based on mythic interpretation, to
describe the rise to power of their own ancestral lineages, specifically that of the Cavec who
came to dominate the highland Maya region in the fifteenth century. This mixture of highland
Maya, lowland Maya, and Mexican-influenced cultures ultimately gave birth to the traditions
contained in the Popol Vuh.
The arrival of the Spaniards in the early sixteenth century resulted in the abrupt disruption
of Quiché-Maya rule. Hernán Cortés, conqueror of the Aztec empire in Mexico, heard
reports of rich lands to be had southward in Guatemala. He therefore sent one of his captains,
Pedro de Alvarado, to subdue any resistance in that direction and claim the area for the
Spanish Crown. In his first letter to Cortés, Alvarado described Guatemala as “the wildest
land and people that has ever been seen.... We are so far from help that if Our Lady does not
aid us, no one can” (Alvarado 1979, 105). Following a brief, yet bloody campaign, Alvarado
entered the Quiché capital at Cumarcah (also known by its Nahua name, Utatlan) without
resistance on March 7, 1524, at the invitation of the lords Oxib Quieh and Beleheb Tzi. Once
inside the city, Alvarado suspected a trap and ordered the arrest and execution of its rulers:
As I knew them [the Quiché lords] to have such ill will toward the service
of His Majesty, and for the good and tranquility of the land, I burned them, and I
commanded to be burned the town of Utatlan to its foundations, for it was
dangerous and strong.... All they that were taken prisoners of war were branded
and made slaves. (Alvarado 1979, 102-3)
During the early Spanish Colonial period, the population of Guatemala declined by as
much as 85% as a result of war, forced labor, and disease. Fortunately, President Alonso
López Cerrato, the successor to Pedro de Alvarado, was more tolerant:
During this year  the Lord President Cerrado arrived.... When he
arrived, he condemned the Spaniards, he liberated the slaves and vassals of the
Spaniards, he cut the taxes in two, he suspended forced labor and made the
Spaniards pay all men, great and small. The lord Cerrado truly alleviated the
sufferings of the people. I myself saw him, oh, my sons! (Recinos and Goetz
Christianity was formally established in Guatemala in 1534 under Bishop Francisco
Marroquín, who sent out priests with portable altars to the various Indian towns and villages
to baptize the Maya and destroy any remnants of “idolatry” and “paganism” which might
have survived the Conquest. To aid in the process of conversion, missionary priests gathered
the Maya into towns, each with a church to administer Catholic rites and instruct them in the
Christian faith. Because Cumarcah had been all but destroyed during the war, the remnants of
its population were moved to a new settlement nearby in ca. 1555, which the Spanish
authorities called Santa Cruz del Quiché (Holy Cross of the Quiché). It was likely here that
the Popol Vuh was compiled in the form that we have today.
Precolumbian Popol Vuh:
In the preamble to the Popol Vuh, its Quiché authors wrote that the contents were based on
an ancient book from across the sea (p. 64). In a later passage, the source of these writings is
identified as Tulan, which they located across the sea to the east (p. 259), apparently a
reference to the Maya lowlands of the Yucatán Peninsula. The Quiché lords held these
“writings of Tulan” in great reverence and consulted them often (p. 287).
The Maya lowlands had a tradition of literacy dating back to at least AD 200, centered on
a sophisticated hieroglyphic script. If the Precolumbian version of the Popol Vuh was like
other ancient texts from the lowlands, it was painted on long strips of bark paper or deer skin
which were given a thin coating of lime plaster to create a smooth writing surface, and then
folded accordian style into a codex book. A number of such ancient painted codices were seen
by the first Spanish missionaries and administrators who arrived in Guatemala. Bartolomé de
las Casas saw several hieroglyphic books about 1540. He wrote that they contained the
history of the people’s origins and religious beliefs, written with “figures and characters by
which they could signify everything they desired; and that these great books are of such
astuteness and subtle technique that we could say our writing does not offer much of an
advantage” (Las Casas 1958, 346).
Las Casas was particularly impressed by the fact that the Maya could write “everything
they desired.” The Maya were, in fact, the only people in the New World who had a writing
system at the time of the Spanish conquest which had this capability. Maya hieroglyphs are
partly phonetic (glyphs which stand for individual sounds) and partly logographic (picture
writing in which a glyph stands for an entire word or concept). Because of their phonetic
nature, Maya glyphs may be placed together to form any word which can be thought or
spoken. There is no evidence that such a script was ever developed or used in the Guatemalan
highlands after the Late Preclassic, however, the authors of the Popol Vuh made clear that
they based their writings on an imported text from the Maya lowlands. It is likely that some
few scribes at the Quiché court were familiar enough with such books in their possession that
they could read them in at least a cursory way.
Beginning in March 1555, a judge from the province of Mexico named Alonso de Zorita
began a tour of inspection through the province of Guatemala in order to moderate tribute
levies and correct administrative abuses inflicted on the local Maya population. As part of his
duties, Zorita visited the ancient city of Utatlan to learn what he could about the ancient
political system of the Quichés. There he was shown “paintings that they had which
recorded their history for more than eight hundred years back, and which were interpreted for
me by very ancient Indians” (Zorita 1963, 271-2).
There must have been hundreds of hieroglyphic books in the Maya world at the time of
the Spanish conquest. It is one of the great tragedies of New World history that the vast
majority of these were destroyed. Las Casas witnessed the destruction of a number of such
books which were burned to “protect” the Maya from their traditional religion:
These books were seen by our clergy, and even I saw part of those which were burned
by the monks, apparently because they thought [they] might harm the Indians in matters
concerning religion, since at that time they were at the beginning of their conversion.
(Las Casas 1958, 346)
Diego de Landa was particularly zealous in his efforts to destroy any hieroglyphic books
which he could find in northern Yucatán: “We found a large number of books of these
characters and, as they contained nothing in which there were not to be seen superstition and
lies of the devil, we burned them all, which they regretted to an amazing degree and which
caused them much affliction” (Landa 1941, 78).
Only four lowland Maya codices are known to have escaped these purges. We can only
add our own laments to those of the Maya over the irretrievable loss of a people’s literary
heritage. Of the many hieroglyphic books that once existed in the highlands, including the
Precolumbian version of the Popol Vuh, not a single one is known to have survived.
The fact that the contents of the original Popol Vuh predated the Spanish conquest gave
them an aura of mystery and power. Its authors referred to the ancient book upon which the
Popol Vuh was based as an ilb'al, meaning “instrument of sight or vision” (p. 64; lines 51-52).
The word is used today to refer to the clear quartz crystals that Quiché priests use in
divinatory ceremonies. It may also be used to refer to magnifying glasses or spectacles, by
which things may be seen more clearly. Thus the rulers of the Quichés consulted the Popol
Vuh in times of national distress as a means of seeing the future:
They knew if there would be war. It was clear before their faces. They saw
if there would be death, if there would be hunger. They surely knew if there would
be strife. There was an instrument of sight. There was a book. Popol Vuh was
their name for it. (p. 287)
Ancient Maya books were periodically displayed on state occasions as an assertion of
legitimacy by the rulers who possessed them (Carmack 1973, 17-18). Diego de Landa wrote
that “the most important possession that the nobles who abandoned Mayapan took away to
their own country was the books of their sciences” (Landa 1941, 39). Even today the
possession of old books and manuscripts is highly prestigious among the highland Maya. La
Farge and Byers observed that the titles and papers of the community of Todos Santos were
kept in a chest which “is highly revered, if not worshiped, by the Indians, and is carried in a
solemn procession on New Year’s day, when the new officials take office” (La Farge and
Byers 1931, 14).
The Precolumbian version of the Popol Vuh has unfortunately been lost. Even the authors
of the sixteenth century manuscript copy wrote that the more ancient book could no longer
be seen in their day, and that what they compiled was based on the original (p. 64). It should
not be assumed that this was a word for word transcription, however. The few Precolumbian
Maya codices that survive, as well as the numerous inscriptions found on stelae, altars,
architectural wall panels, etc., all bear texts that are highly formalized and condensed
references to dates, persons, and events that briefly outline the stories they wish to tell.
These are often accompanied by illustrations to further elucidate the otherwise terse prose.
No known Precolumbian text contains the kind of long storytelling devices, descriptive detail,
commentary, and extensive passages of dialogue found in the Popol Vuh. It is more likely to
have been a compilation of oral traditions based to one degree or another on mythic and
historical details outlined in a Precolumbian codex with their associated painted illustrations.
Authors of the Popol Vuh:
The authors of the Popol Vuh were anonymous. In the text they refer to themselves only as
“we” (p. 64), indicating that there were more than one who contributed to its compilation.
The anonymity of the authors is unusual since most Colonial period highland Maya
documents were prepared for some official purpose, and were duly signed by their authors as
testimony of their veracity. For whatever reason, those who were responsible for compiling
the Popol Vuh did not wish their identities to be known.
The authors were traditionalists, in the sense that they recorded the history and theology
of the ancient highland Maya people without adding material from European sources. The
Popol Vuh thus contains very little direct Christian influence. By its own account it is a
faithful record of the contents of the ancient Popol Vuh text which could no longer be seen (p.
64). Although the traditions of the book were compiled after the Conquest, “under the law of
God and Christianity” (ibid.), its Quiché authors venerated their traditional Maya gods as
luminous, wise beings who brought life and light to the world through their creative works.
The statement that the Popol Vuh was composed within Christianity immediately follows a
declaration that the Maya gods “accomplished their purpose in purity of being and in truth”
long before the arrival of the Christian God (p. 63). Thus the Popol Vuh contrasts its “ancient
word” (pp. 59, 64) which contains light and life, with that of the more recent voice of
Christianity. In highland Maya society, antiquity denotes authority. A modern priest-shaman
in Momostenango once told me that the Maya “Earth God” is greater than Christ and the
saints because he was worshiped by his people for centuries before the arrival of the
Such unapologetic reverence for the ancient gods would have been offensive to the Spanish
missionaries. During the early decades of the Spanish conquest, the most obvious expressions
of Maya religion and literature were either destroyed or forced into hiding. Old hieroglyphic
books were singled out as dangerous hindrances to the conversion of the people and were
actively sought out and destroyed. Those who were found in possession of such books were
persecuted and even killed. As much as two hundred years later, Ximénez wrote that many
ancient books were still kept in secret by the Quichés so that the Spanish authorities would
not learn of them (Ximénez 1929-31, I.i.5).
It was the loss of such precious books as the hieroglyphic Popol Vuh which may have
prompted Quiché scribes to preserve what they could of their literature by transcribing their
contents into a form which would make them safer from the fiery purges of Christian
authorities. The authors of the Popol Vuh may have recognized the danger in this and cloaked
themselves with anonymity to protect themselves. The preamble to the Popol Vuh may hint
at this when it declares that “the original book exists that was written anciently, but its
witnesses and those who ponder it hide their faces” (p. 64). It is therefore he who “witnesses
and ponders” the ancient book who is in hiding, perhaps an indirect reference to the authors
of the Popol Vuh manuscript who did not wish their identities known for fear that the
authorities might do harm to them or the book in their possession.
The Popol Vuh was likely composed in its present form at Santa Cruz del Quiché, a new
city founded by the Spanish conquerors near the ruins of Cumarcah/Utatlan, the ancient
capital of the Quichés. The majority of its inhabitants were members of the old ruling classes
which had been resettled from Cumarcah to aid in their conversion to Christianity and to
more easily supervise their activities. The authors of the text were most likely members of
the Quiché nobility who may have retained some Precolumbian manuscripts from the royal
archives that survived the Conquest.
The Popol Vuh does provide some clues as to who its authors may have been. In an
extended passage placed immediately after the dynastic list of the Quiché kings themselves,
the text declares that the three Nim Ch'okoj (Great Stewards) of the principal Quiché ruling
lineages were “the mothers of the word, and the fathers of the word” (p. 305). “The word” is
used in the text to describe the Popol Vuh itself (p. 59; lines 1-4), indicating that the Nim
Ch'okoj were likely the authors of the book. Nim Ch'okoj was a relatively minor position
within the Quiché nobility, charged with certain duties at royal banquets, perhaps including
the recitation of tales dealing with the gods, heroes and past rulers of the Quiché nation.
The Popol Vuh lists don Juan de Rojas and don Juan Cortés as the contemporary Quiché
kings of the ruling Cavec lineage when the manuscript was written (p. 297). These men were
grandsons of the two kings burned by Pedro de Alvarado during the conquest of the Quiché
nation. If the authors of the Popol Vuh were the three Nim Ch'okoj of the major Quiché
lineages in the days of Juan de Rojas and Juan Cortés, then at least one of their names is
known. The contemporary Título Totonicapán was completed during the reign of these same
two kings. One of the signatories of the document was Adon Cristóbal Velasco, Nim Chocoh
Cavec” (Great Steward of the Cavec) (Chonay and Goetz 1953, 195; Carmack and Mondloch
1983, 200). Thus don Cristóbal Velasco was likely one of the elusive authors of the Popol
Vuh as well.
Whoever they may have been, the authors of the Popol Vuh manuscript were trained in the
use of European letters. Soon after the formal establishment of Christianity in highland
Guatemala, Christian missionaries began to teach representatives of the various Maya
lineages of Guatemala to read and write their languages using a modified Latin script
developed by Fr. Francisco de la Parra. The first bishop of Guatemala, Francisco Marroquín
strongly advocated this policy as a means of aiding the conversion effort to Christianity. The
authors of the Popol Vuh undoubtedly learned to read and write with the Latin alphabet under
the direction of Christian missionaries who were actively establishing schools for this
purpose in major Maya towns, undoubtedly including Santa Cruz del Quiché.
History of the Popol Vuh Manuscript:
Although the Popol Vuh is undated, internal evidence points to the work being completed
between the years 1554 and 1558. The manuscript mentions that Juan de Rojas and Juan
Cortés, grandsons of the kings burned by Alvarado during the Conquest, were alive and
recognized as rulers when the Popol Vuh was written. The signatures of these kings appear on
the last page of the Título Totonicapán, which is dated September 28, 1554 (Chonay and
Goetz 1953, 194-5). The Popol Vuh must have been written prior to 1558, because by that
date don Juan de Rojas had disappeared from Colonial records and had presumably died.
Thus the Royal Title of Don Francisco Izquin Nehaib, dated November 22, 1558, is signed by
Don Juan Cortés and Don Martín, kings of the Quiché at Santa Cruz (Recinos 1957, 115).
The Popol Vuh also refers to one don Pedro de Robles as the current “Lord Magistrate” of the
Nihaib lineage (p. 301). Pedro de Robles is known to have taken office soon after 1554,
therefore the Popol Vuh must have been written sometime between the years 1554 and 1558.
This decade was one of great impoverishment in the town of Santa Cruz del Quiché.
Despite a dramatic decline in population in the area following the Conquest, Spanish officials
continued to drain its resources with heavy tribute levies and extortion. This became
particularly severe with the accession of the Spanish king Philip II in 1556. The new king was
desperate to augment royal revenues by any means possible to alleviate Spain’s acute
financial difficulties. As a result, the Crown sought to limit where possible the traditional
tribute rights and other privileges which had been the chief means of support for the Quiché
nobility, while seizing their assets (Carmack 1973, 20).
Alonso de Zorita, a judge from the Audiencia of Mexico, travelled through Guatemala in
1555. While there, he visited Santa Cruz del Quiché and inquired of the native rulers
concerning their government. He was amazed to find that those who were at one time “lords
of Utatlan” were:
as poor and miserable as the poorest Indian of the town, and their wives fixed
the tortillas for dinner because they had no servants, nor any means of supporting
them; they themselves carried fuel and water for their houses. The principal lord
was named Don Juan de Rojas, the second, Don Juan Cortés.... They were all
extremely poor; they left sons who were all penniless, miserable tribute-payers,
for the Spaniards do not exempt any Indians from payment of tribute. (Zorita
Spanish conquerors had divided up much of the land they had seized as spoils of war in
the form of an encomienda, an institution whereby the Crown authorized Spaniards who
participated in the Conquest to collect tribute and demand labor from the Indians in return for
services such as military duty and providing for the spiritual welfare of Indians under their
control (Orellana 1983, 137). Members of the Maya nobility protested this confiscation of
their property, claiming traditional rights as rulers under Colonial law. Spanish courts tended
to respect land claims and tribute rights held by important noble lineages if these could be
documented based on written proof of genealogy and history. Many highland Maya texts
were prepared specifically as “royal titles,” and were duly signed by native rulers as legal
documents. Where possible, these titles were based on Precolumbian books whose antiquity
served to bolster their authenticity in court.
The Quiché lord, don Juan Cortés, travelled to Spain in 1557 to directly press his case for
royal privileges at the court of Philip II. This endeavor was unsuccessful as he was judged to
be unworthy of special rights, being the son of an idolator. It was also suspected that he was
not whole-heartedly converted to the Christian faith, and that it would require “very little to
restore their ceremonies and attract their former subjects to himself” (Tedlock 1996, 56). This
reflects the general mood of the Spanish authorities in Guatemala who sought to limit the
rights of native rulers. The governor of Guatemala, Alonso López Cerrato, wrote to the
Spanish king on May 25, 1552, that the Maya prior to the Conquest “reverenced” their rulers
“as gods, and if this were to continue, the lords could raise the land in rebellion easily”
(Carmack 1973, 379. Translation by author).
The fate of the sixteenth century transcription of the Popol Vuh is unknown for the
next 150 years. At some time during this period, it was taken from Santa Cruz del Quiché to
the nearby town of Chuvila, now known as Santo Tomás Chichicastenango. Chichicastenango
had long since eclipsed Santa Cruz in size and importance, and most members of the old
nobility had transferred their residence there. Today it is still famed for its spectacular
mountain scenery, and its preservation of traditional Quiché culture.
Between 1701 and 1704, a Dominican monk named Francisco Ximénez, the parish priest
of Chichicastenango, came to obtain the manuscript. Ximénez had served since 1694 in
various Maya communities where he learned a number of dialects and studied Maya grammar
so that he could teach it to newly-arrived clerics. He was particularly impressed with the
Quiché language, calling it the “principal one of the world.”
Ximénez was interested as well in the ancient traditions of the Quichés. He noted that in
his parish the people still conserved ancient “errors” which they had believed prior to the
arrival of the Spaniards (Ximénez 1929-31, I.i.54). His curiosity concerning ancient Quiché
history and religion may have overcome the suspicion of the guardians of the Popol Vuh
manuscript, who allowed him to see it and make a copy. Ximénez wrote that other such texts
were also in their possession:
It was with great reserve that these manuscripts were kept among them, with such
secrecy, that neither the ancient ministers knew of it, and investigating this point, while I
was in the parish of Santo Tomás Chichicastenango, I found that it was the doctrine
which they first imbibed with their mother’s milk, and that all of them knew it almost by
heart, and I found that they had many of these books among them. (Ximénez 1929-31,
Ximénez transcribed the Quiché text of the Popol Vuh, and added a Spanish translation of
its contents. It is unknown what happened to the sixteenth century manuscript, although
presumably Ximénez returned it to its Quiché owners. It is possible that the original may still
survive in the possession of village elders or in the town archives of Chichicastenango.
Ximénez’s manuscript lay forgotten in parish archives until the Guatemalan Civil War of
1829 when all religious orders were expelled from the country. Books and papers formerly
housed in convents and monasteries were subsequently transferred to public libraries,
government repositories, or the collections of private individuals. Ximénez’s copy of the
Popol Vuh manuscript apparently ended up in the library of the University of San Carlos in
Guatemala City. An Austrian traveler named Carl Scherzer saw it there in 1854 and had a
copy made to take with him back to Europe. In part, Scherzer commissioned this copy to be
made due to the poor condition of the manuscript. He described it as having been “written in
such light ink that the original might very well become illegible and useless in a few years”
(Scherzer 1856, 9). Lamentably, this faded copy of the Ximénez transcription of the Popol
Vuh has since vanished from public records. Scherzer published Ximénez’s Spanish version
of the text in 1856, the first time the Popol Vuh had appeared in print. The book was greeted
with a great deal of excitement in Europe and America, where interest in ancient cultures was
In 1861, four years after Scherzer’s book, the Quiché version of the Popol Vuh was
published for the first time, along with a rather flowery French translation by Father Charles
Etienne Brasseur de Bourbourg. This publication was based on yet another copy of the
Ximénez transcription which Brasseur had obtained from a Quiché man, named Ignacio
Coloch, who resided in the town of Rabinal. This manuscript is of supreme importance
because it is the oldest known Quiché version of the Popol Vuh text which has survived.
Ximénez was in charge of the parish of Rabinal from 1704-1714, immediately following his
years in Chichicastenango. It is unknown whether Ximénez prepared the “Rabinal
Manuscript” during this period of his ministry or brought it with him from Chichicastenango.
The Rabinal Manuscript of the Popol Vuh bears the cumbersome title, Empiezan las
historias del origen de los Indios de esta provincia de Guatemala, traduzido de la lengua
quiché en la castellana para más comodidad de los Ministros del Sto. Evangelio, por el R.P.F.
Franzisco Ximénez, Cura doctrinero por el Real Patronato del Pueblo de Sto. Thomás Chuilá
(Beginning of the histories of the origin of the Indians of this province of Guatemala,
translated from the Quiché language to Spanish for the greater convenience of the Ministries
of the Holy Gospel, by the Reverend Father Franzisco Ximénez, Parish Priest for the Royal
Patronage of the Town of Santo Tomás Chuilá). It is handwritten in a clear, flowing cursive
script arranged in two columns, Quiché on the left and Ximénez’s Spanish translation on the
right. Fortunately the ink used has remained well-preserved, and the paper is in remarkably
good condition with almost no lacunae due to stains, tears or holes. It was placed at the end
of a series of linguistic studies made by Ximénez which he entitled Arte de las tres lenguas
Cacchiquel, Quiché y Tzutuhil (Art of the three languages Cacchiquel, Quiché and Tzutuhil).
These studies include a brief grammar, confessional, and Catechism in each of the three
Brasseur brought the Rabinal Manuscript to Europe as part of a large corpus of native
American documents which he had collected in his travels through Mexico and Guatemala.
The bound volume containing the Ximénez transcription of the Popol Vuh was purchased
after Brasseur’s death by the American collector, Edward E. Ayer, who eventually donated it
to the Newberry Library in Chicago, Illinois, where it is catalogued as Ayer MS 1515.
The Poetic Nature of the Popol Vuh:
The Popol Vuh is not only the most important highland Maya text in terms of its historical
and mythological content, it is also a sublime work of literature, composed in rich and elegant
poetry. In this respect it can be compared with other great epic poems of the ancient world
such as the Ramayana and Mahabharata of India, or the Iliad and Odyssey of Greece.
Quiché poetry is not based on rhyme or metrical rhythms, but rather the arrangement of
concepts into innovative and even ornate parallel structures. Seldom are the authors content
with expressing a single idea without embellishing it with synonymous concepts, metaphors,
or descriptive epithets. The Quiché poet is much like the composer of classical music who
begins with a simple melody and then weaves into it both complementary and contrasting
harmonies to give it interest and depth. Thus endless variations on a given theme are possible.
Books such as the Popol Vuh were not simply records of dry history, but universal
declarations of the purpose of the world and man’s place in it. The written words were thus
intended to conjure up an image in the mind, to give new life and breath to the gods and
heroes each time the story was read. The beauty of the work depends not only on the story
itself, but on how the story is told. As Munro Edmonson points out, Mayan texts are meant
to be “read and pondered rather than skimmed over” (Edmonson 1982, xiii).
Yet the beauty of Quiché poetry may sound awkward and repetitive when translated into
European languages. Some translators in the past have ignored or failed to recognize the
poetic nature of the Popol Vuh, particularly its use of parallelism, and have tried to improve
its seemingly purposeless redundancy by eliminating words, phrases, and even whole
sections of text which they deemed unnecessary. While this unquestionably helps to make
the story flow more smoothly, in keeping with our modern taste for linear plot structure, it
detracts from the character of Quiché high literature. Welch points out that “in many ancient
contexts, repetition and even redundancy appear to represent the rule rather than the
exception” (Welch 1981, 12).
The first modern scholar to recognize parallelism in Maya literature was Sir J. Eric
Thompson, who noticed that Precolumbian hieroglyphic texts seemed to contain redundant
glyphs. Because the ancient Yucatec Maya books of Chilam Balam have similar redundancies,
he concluded that these parallel glyphs were intended as a “flowing harmony,” and were
“interpolated to improve the cadence of a passage” (Thompson 1950, 61-62).
Miguel León-Portilla was the first translator to arrange portions of Quiché and Yucatec
Maya documents into poetic verse (León-Portilla 1969, 51-55, 75, 92-93). His recognition of
the literary nature of Maya texts was a significant advance over previous translations which
virtually ignored the presence of poetry. Nevertheless, his criteria for separating individual
poetic lines, or cola, was somewhat haphazard, and he failed to recognize the presence of
most forms of parallelism in the text.
In his translation of the Popol Vuh, Munro Edmonson arranges the entire text into parallel
couplets. He asserts that “the Popol Vuh is primarily a work of literature, and it cannot be
properly read apart from the literary form in which it is expressed” (Edmonson 1971, xi).
While he has been criticized for failing to identify other types of poetry in his work (D.
Tedlock 1983, 230), it is still the only translation of the full text of the Popol Vuh which has
emphasized the poetic nature of the text. It is also true that by far the most common
arrangement in the Popol Vuh is the parallel couplet. Edmonson himself recognized that his
arrangement of the text was not the last word on the literary structure of the Popol Vuh: “I
am certain that my reading does not exhaust either the poetry or the sense that is expressed,
and that the Popol Vuh contains more of both beauty and meaning than I have found in it”
(Edmonson 1971, xiii).
For the purposes of the second volume of this monograph, I have arranged the literal
translation of the Popol Vuh according to its poetic structure. Lines which are parallel in form
or concept have been indented an equal number of spaces from the left margin of the page.
TYPES OF PARALLELISM IN THE POPOL VUH:
1. Identical Parallelism: The repetition of identical elements. Example, lines 794-795:
Sooty our mouths, Xaq qa chi',
Sooty our faces. Xaq qa wach.
2. Synonymous Parallelism: The repetition of elements which are similar in meaning or
significance. Example, lines 58-59:
Witness of it, Ilol re,
Ponderer of it. B'isol re.
3. Antithetic Parallelism: The contrast of one element with an opposite or antithetical
element. Example, lines 730-1:
Day rain, Q'ijil jab',
Night rain. Aq'ab'al jab'.
4. Associative Parallelism: The correlation of elements which are complementary to one
another. This association may be material, familial, functional, or gender-based.
a. Material association, in which the substance of the elements is similar in nature.
Example, lines 243-244:
Its cypress groves, U k'isisil,
Pine forests its face. U pachajil u wach.
b. Familial association, in which elements are related by kinship. Example, lines 5129-
First our grandfathers, Nab'e qa mam,
Our fathers, Qa qajaw,
c. Functional association, in which two elements act in a similar manner. Example, lines
Merely alone the Framer, Xa u tukel ri Tz'aqol,
d. Gender association, in which two elements are paired as male and female representatives
of a parallel occupation. Example, lines 287-288:
Says the She Who Has Borne Children, Kacha' ri Alom,
He Who Has Begotten Sons: K'ajolom:
5. Augmentive Parallelism: Parallel elements in which one word or phrase clarifies or
augments the meaning of another. Example, lines 151-152:
Thus surely there is the sky, Keje' k'ut xax k'o wi ri kaj,
There is also its Heart Sky. K'o nay puch u K'ux Kaj.
6. Causative Parallelism: Parallel elements in which the first word or phrase directly
effects or precipitates the associated words or phrases. Example, lines 716-7:
He came Striking Jaguar, Xpe Tukum B'alam,
He struck them. Xtukuwik.
7. Epithetic Parallelism: The association of an element with a complementary noun or
adjective which serves to define the nature of that element. Example, lines 591-2:
This the grandfather, Are' ri mama',
This master of tz'ite, Are' aj tz'ite,
8. Alliterative Parallelism: Elements which parallel one another in sound when read aloud.
In lines 486-7, the verbs yoj and yoq' were apparently chosen for their similar sounds, in
addition to their synonymous meaning:
Then they undid it therefore, Ta xkiyoj k'ut,
They toppled it again Xkiyoq' chik
9. Grammatical Parallelism: Elements which are grammatically parallel in construction,
such as the following example from lines 11-13, in which the same passive verb form is used
as a gerund in each line of the strophe:
Its being manifested, U k'utunisaxik,
Its being declared, U q'alajob'isaxik,
Its being expressed as well, U tzijoxik puch,
10. Alternative Parallelism: Parallelism in which elements appear in an alternating
arrangement, such as the following example from lines 591-7, which is arranged ABCA'B'B'C'.
This the grandfather, Are' ri mama',
This master of tz'ite, Are' aj tz'ite,
Xpiyacoc his name. Xpiyakok u b'i'.
This therefore the grandmother, Are' k'u ri ati't,
Mistress of Days, Aj Q'ij,
Mistress of Shaping at its foot, Aj B'it chi raqan,
Xmucane her name. Xmuqane u b'i'.
11. Chiasmus, or Reverse Parallelism: Parallelism in which the first element of a strophe
parallels the last, the second element parallels the next to last, etc. This arrangement tends to
focus attention on the central elements, thus asserting their importance. It is a rather common
poetic form in sixteenth century Maya literature, particularly in the Guatemalan highlands,
however, none of the known documents composed after 1580 contain passages of chiasmus.
Several of these later texts might otherwise be expected to contain ancient poetic forms, since
they include significant sections of Precolumbian history and culture. Among these are the
Título Zapotitlan, the Título Santa Clara, the Título Chauchituj and the Título Uchabaja. By
1580, however, scribes who possessed ancient codices and were familiar with their contents
were for the most part gone. Perhaps by this time the old poetic literary forms were already
forgotten or had fallen into disuse (Christenson 1988). The first chiasm that I was able to
identify within the Popol Vuh appears in lines 32-35:
Xmucane, their names, Xmuqane, u b'i',
The name of the “Midwife” in line 32 is Xmucane, which appears in line 35. The name of
the “Patriarch” in line 33 is Xpiyacoc, which appears in line 34. The descriptions and proper
names of this couple thus appear in a chiastic arrangement. Edmonson, who believed that the
Popol Vuh is arranged entirely in paired couplets, was confused by the order of the names
Xpiyacoc and Xmucane: “It is odd that this frequent couplet places the male first, the reverse
of the usual Quiché order; indeed, if the reconstructed forms are correct, they would make
better sense reversed” (Edmonson 1971, 5 n. 35). Recognition of the chiasmus in this passage
clears up the confusion (see also lines 538-541 for a repetition of this arrangement).
Chiasms may appear within a single line or extend for several lines, as in the following ten
line example which is placed at the conclusion of the account of the creation of the first
humans (lines 5171-5180), and which is arranged in the form ABCDEE'D'C'B'A'.
Then they were multiplied, Ta xpoq'otajik,
There at its coming out sun. Chila' chi releb'al q'ij.
Truly their names came to be the people: Qi u b'i' xuxik ri winaq:
Sun Lord, K'enech Ajaw,
Would be called now their names people. Chuchax chik u b'i' winaq.
There its coming out sun Chila' releb'al q'ij
They were multiplied. Xpoq'otajik.
Within the Popol Vuh, entire sections may appear in chiastic form. The account of the first
creation is arranged as a single, large chiasm. Each phase of the creation is outlined in detail
from primordial stillness to the formation of the face of the earth, along with its mountains
and rivers. The final portion of this section then recapitulates the events of the creation in
Creation begun with a declaration of the first words concerning the creation (lines 97-117)
The sky is in suspense and the earth is submerged in water (lines 118-136)
The creation is to be under the direction of Its Heart Sky (lines 137-192)
The creation of all things begun (lines 193-201)
The creation of earth (lines 202-232)
The creation of mountains (lines 233-255)
The division of the waters into branches (lines 256-258)
“Merely divided then existed waters,” (line 259)
“Then were revealed great mountains.” (line 260)
“Thus its creation earth this,” (line 261)
“Then it was created by them” (line 262)
“Its Heart Sky, [who first conceived the creation]” (lines 263-267)
“It was set apart the sky, it was set apart also earth within water,” (lines 268-269)
“Thus its conception this, when they thought, when they pondered” (lines 270-274)
12. Envelope Parallelism: The repetition of parallel elements at the beginning and end of a
long stanza or section of poetry. This has the effect of tying together the introduction and
conclusion of a passage to set it apart from that which precedes and follows it. Example, lines
5147-5148 initiate the envelope:
These therefore their names Are' k'u ki b'i'
Their wives these: Kixoqil wa':
This introductory couplet is followed by four couplets listing the wives of the Quiché
progenitors. The section is then concluded with a parallel enveloping couplet in lines 5157-
These therefore their names Are' k'ut u b'i'
Their wives. Kixoqil.
Such envelopes may appear at the beginning and end of much larger sections as well. The
account of the second creation begins with lines 275-276, describing the formation of the wild
animals of the earth:
THEN they conceived again TA xkino'jij chik
Its animals mountain, U chikopil juyub',
The account concludes with lines 432-3, which recapitulate the introductory couplet with
a parallel envelope:
The animals that are here Ri chikop k'o waral
On its face earth. Chuwach ulew.
13. Merismus: The expression of a broad concept by a pair of complementary elements
which are narrower in meaning. Thus, in lines 64-65, “sky-earth” represents all creation as a
whole. Lines 240-241 use “mountain-valley” to include the face of the earth as a whole.
Lines 338-339 use “deer-birds” to describe all wild animals, while lines 748-749 use “dogs-
turkeys” to describe all domesticated animals.
14. Emblematic Parallelism: The use of simile to compare elements, often with the use of
words such as “like” or “as.” Example, lines 832-833:
These therefore the spider monkeys, Are' k'u ri k'oy,
Like people they would appear. Keje' ri' winaq chiwachinik.
15. Combination of Parallel Arrangements: The use of two or more types of parallelism
in a single strophe. The following example from lines 4948-4956 is a combination of parallel
couplets arranged into chiastic form (AABBCB'B'A'A'):
MERELY framed, XA tz'aq,
Merely shaped they are called. Xa b'it ke'uchaxik.
There was no their mother, Maja b'i ki chuch,
There was no their father. Maja b'i ki qajaw.
Merely lone men we would say. Xa u tukel achij chiqab'ij.
Nor surely woman gave them birth, Ma na ixoq xe'alanik,
Nor also were they begotten Ma nay pu xek'ajolaxik
By the Framer, Rumal ri Aj Tz'aq,
Shaper, Aj B'it,
Lines 5063-5070 combine alternate parallelism with parallel couplets placed in the third
Not therefore good Ma k'u utz
They heard it, Xkita'o,
The Framer, Ri Aj Tz'aq,
Shaper. Aj B'it.
“Not good “Mawi utz
This they said, Ri' mi xkib'ij,
Our framing, Qa tz'aq,
Our shaping: Qa b'it:
16. Monocolon: An isolated line which does not parallel any associated line, thus standing on
its own. Because monocolons are relatively rare within the Popol Vuh, they are all the more
powerful when they do occur. In general they are used when the author desires to give extra
emphasis to a passage. Thus line 200 appears as an isolated declaration:
Then be it so. Ta' chuxoq.
The various types of parallelism in the Popol Vuh may appear within a pair of lines, or
they may extend through multiple lines of text. While the parallel couplet is the standard
poetic form in the Popol Vuh, it is by no means the only one. Tedlock recognized this in his
work with highland Maya literature: “To measure all Mayan texts by the single standard of
the couplet is to miss the very essence of Mayan verse rhythms, which move in twos, and
sometimes threes, and once in a while arch over to produce a four” (D. Tedlock 1983b, 230). I
would only add that such verse rhythms may also extend beyond four lines to form quintets,
sextets, and even longer arrangements.
The following are examples of the various strophic types in terms of length found within
the Popol Vuh:
1. Parallel Couplets (Bicolon): By far the most common strophic length in the Popol Vuh
is the couplet, consisting of two parallel lines. Example, lines 165-166:
Then they thought, Ta xena'ojinik,
Then they pondered. Ta xeb'isonik.
In modern Quiché speech, formal prayers and even everyday conversation tend to utilize
parallel couplets. The following selection is from a prayer made by a Quiché priest-shaman in
Momostenango as recorded by Barbara Tedlock (B. Tedlock 1982, 197). The translation,
orthography and punctuation have not been altered from Tedlock’s transcription, although I
have arranged the prayer into couplet form:
Pardon my sin God. Sachaj la numac Tiox.
Pardon my sin Earth. Sachaj la numac Mundo.
I am giving my fine, Quinya'o ri numulta,
my present nu presenta
before you God, chiwäch la Tiox,
before you Earth. chiwäch la Mundo.
I am giving my wax candle, Quinya'o wa' jun nuceracandela,
my stake nu tac'alibal
toward the legs pa ri akän
arms of God k'äb la Tiox
at the rising of the sun, chirelebal k'ij,
at the setting of the sun chukajibal k'ij
the four corners of sky, cajxucut kaj,
the four corners of earth, cajxucut ulew.
Come here then my work, Sa'j la rech c'ut nuchac,
my service. nupatan.
2. Parallel Triplets (Tricolon): Three parallel lines of text. Example, lines 374-376:
Call upon us! Kojisik'ij!
Worship us!” they were told. Kojiq'ijila'!” xe'uchaxik.
3. Parallel Quatrains (Tetracolon): Four parallel lines of text. Example, lines 5034-5037:
We speak, Kojch'awik,
We listen, Kojta'onik,
We ponder, Kojb'isonik,
We move. Kojsilab'ik.
One interesting phenomenon which appears frequently within longer series of parallel
lines is “gapping,” in which an expected word or clause is omitted in one line, although it is
implied by the parallelism of the series. Gapping is used in modern Quiché to break up the
monotony of a long series of parallel elements. An example in the Popol Vuh appears in lines
66-69, in which the word “four” is expected in the third line, but is not expressed:
Its four cornerings, U kaj tz'ukuxik,
Its four sidings, U kaj xukutaxik,
Its measurings, Retaxik,
Its four stakings, U kaj che'xik,
4. Longer parallel series: The following is an example of a parallel sextet in lines 464-469:
Merely it would come undone, Xa chiyojomanik,
Merely crumbled, Xa tzub'ulik,
Merely sodden, Xa neb'elik,
Merely mushy, Xa lub'anik,
Merely fallen apart, Xa wulanik,
Merely as well it would dissolve. Xa pu chi'umarik.
The Popol Vuh is fundamentally based on these various forms of parallelism. Recognition
of the presence of parallelism in a given text helps to focus attention on what the authors feel
is important. By pairing each thought with complementary ones, the authors are able to
develop their ideas with greater clarity. They may compare elements, contrast them, elaborate
upon their significance, or add layers of meaning which would not otherwise be obvious.
Parallelism is also the primary means used by Quiché authors to give order to their
thoughts. The words of the Popol Vuh were not arranged into sentences and paragraphs as in
modern literature. The use of periods, commas, and capitalization to separate independent
concepts was inconsistent at best, reflecting the authors’ lack of familiarity with European
devices for punctuation. Parallelism provided a means of structuring the book’s ideas into
distinct and coherent entities.
Much of Quiché literature was based in whole, or in part, on oral tradition. Parallelism is a
common mnemonic device used in many ancient cultures to help narrators remember the flow
and direction of their tale. This is particularly true of the chiastic type of parallelism, which
may give order to large sections of a story. It also gives the listener an opportunity to hear a
recapitulation in reverse order of what had been said, while reminding him of the central
themes that are of special importance.
The presence of parallelism in the Popol Vuh is also a tremendous, though unintended,
boon to modern translators. By comparing an ambiguous word or passage with its associated
line, its general meaning is often clarified. This is especially important when interpreting a
word which has more than one possible meaning, or which is poorly transcribed through
Perhaps the most important reason that I have stressed the poetic nature of the Popol Vuh
in this translation is the insight it gives into the mind of the ancient Quiché author. We can see
how he organized his thoughts as he took pen or brush in hand to set them down in
permanent form. Far from being the random musings of an unlearned storyteller, the Popol
Vuh can be appreciated as the eloquent creation of a master poet with a sophisticated literary
The Quiché version of the Popol Vuh transcribed by Ximénez was written using a modified
Latin alphabet to represent Quiché sounds. Thus x is used to represent the sh sound of
English; h represents the hard Spanish j; and v represents the English w. For the most part,
the letters used were based on those standardized by the Franciscan priest Francisco de la
Parra in 1545. The orthography is therefore consistent with the writing system taught by
Christian missionaries during the early Spanish Colonial period, although the Popol Vuh text
is much less consistent in its use of the Parra alphabet than other contemporary documents
such as the Título Totonicapán (Carmack and Mondloch 1983) or the Título Yax (Carmack
and Mondloch 1989). Variant spellings of words occur throughout the manuscript and
glottalized sounds in particular are haphazardly distinguished at best. Even when used
faithfully, however, the Parra alphabet presents a number of problems in interpretation, since
the Quiché language includes several sounds which have no equivalents in this system.
Long and short vowels are treated as separate letters in Quiché and should be distinguished
when written. The Ximénez transcription of the Popol Vuh seldom makes such distinctions.
For example, the word transcribed as vach might be read with a long vowel vach (“my
companion”), or with a short vowel väch (“my face”).
The Quiché language utilizes both a palatal stop (k) and a uvular stop (q). The Popol Vuh
manuscript uses a single letter (c) to represent both these sounds. In addition, each of these
has a glottalized form (k') and (q'), pronounced by occluding the vocal apparatus
momentarily and then opening it forcefully to create a mildly-explosive release of sound.
Because the Latin alphabet has no equivalent for glottalized sounds, Parra invented letters to
represent them. The Popol Vuh manuscript however does not consistently use the Parra
glottalized letters for the palatal and uvular consonants. In most cases it either ignores
glottalization altogether, representing them with the letter c, or uses the letter q to represent
both glottalized forms. As a result, the single letter “c” may have four equally plausible
For example, the word cac might be read as kak (their gourd); kaq (red); kaq (their
peccary); kak' (their turkey); qak (our gourd); qak' (our turkey); qaq (our peccary); kaq'
(their tongues); qaq' (our tongues); k'ak' (new); k'aq (to throw); q'ak (flea); or q'aq' (fire).
Four other combinations are possible which have no known meaning in modern usage, but
which might have existed in the archaic language of the sixteenth century.
The glottalized forms of other consonants and vowels are also either ignored or used
inconsistently in the Ximénez manuscript. Thus there is often no difference between the
written form of che (toward him/her) and che' (tree). Imagine the difficulties for the reader
when the words tzaq (to thrown down) and tz'aq (to frame or build) appear with the same
If this weren’t confusing enough, words which appear to be contextually the same may
appear with variant spellings. The Quiché authors who composed the text in the sixteenth
century were pioneers in the use of a foreign alphabet to represent their language in written
form. They did not have the luxury of officially recognized dictionaries with standardized
spellings, nor did they have computers to scan for errors. In light of the enormous difficulties
involved in its composition, the Popol Vuh manuscript is remarkably consistent, although
discrepancies in spelling inevitably appear in the text.
It is impossible to know how many variant spellings crept into the text as a result of
scribal errors made by Ximénez when he copied his version from the original manuscript. At
one point, Ximénez copied eleven lines of the same passage of text twice (folio 8r). He caught
his mistake and crossed out the repeated section. If no scribal errors were made, the two
transcriptions should be identical, yet Edmonson found an average of one discrepancy every
five lines in the duplicated section (Edmonson 1971, 46). Without the original document
composed by the Quichés, a perfect reading of the text is impossible to verify.
Since the sixteenth century, a number of writing systems have been invented for Quiché in
an attempt to avoid the confusion inherent in the Parra alphabet. Unfortunately, this has
resulted in the proliferation of a great many competing systems without a consensus as to
which should be the standard. Many of these utilize letters not found in the modern
European alphabet, making them impossible to use with most typewriters and computer
In 1986 the Guatemalan Ministry of Public Education set up a commission to standardize
alphabets for the twenty-one recognized highland Maya languages. This standardization
effort had become particularly important due to the Guatemalan government’s proposed
“Program of Bilingual Education” in Mayan communities, designed to improve literacy and
promote native American cultures and languages. This program included the publication of
bilingual dictionaries, school textbooks, and official translations of the Guatemalan
Constitution in the various highland Maya languages.
The results of this commission were officially endorsed by the Guatemalan government
and signed into law as Governmental Decree Number 1046-87 by President Marco Vinicio
Cerezo Arévalo on November 23, 1987.
The following is a list of the modified Latin letters developed by Parra as used in the
Popol Vuh text, along with the modern orthographic equivalents and a guide to pronunciation:
a, aa a As in the a of “father.”
a ä As in the o of “mother.”
b b' Similar to the English b, but pronounced with the throat closed while
air is forcefully expelled to produce a glottal stop.
ch ch As in the ch of “child.”
qh, ch ch' Pronounced with the tongue in the same position as for the ch, but the
throat is closed and air forcefully expelled to produce a glottalized ch.
e, ee e As in the a of “late.”
i, ÿ, ii i As in the ee in “eel.”
h j Pronounced like the English h, but deeper in the throat. Similar to the
Spanish j or the German ch (as in the proper name “Bach”).
c, q k Similar to the k in “king.”
c, q k' Pronounced with the tongue in the same position as for the k, but the
throat is closed and air forcefully expelled to produce a glottalized k.
l l Pronounced like the English l, but with the tongue moved forward to
contact the upper incisor teeth. When appearing as the terminal letter
in a word, this sound is immediately followed by the h as in the
English word “hot.”
m m As in the m of “mat.”
n n As in the n of “net.”
o, oo o As in the o of “home.”
p p Pronounced like the English p but shortened in length.
c, q q Pronounced from further back in the throat than the letter k, similar to
the kh in the Egyptian word ankh.
ε, c, q q' Pronounced with the tongue in the same position as for the q, but the
throat is closed and air forcefully expelled to produce a glottalized q.
r r Similar to the Spanish r, pronounced with a brief tap of the tongue
against the roof of the mouth.
z s As in the s of “sit.”
t t Similar to the English t but shortened in length.
d, t t' Pronounced with the tongue in the same position as for the t, but the
throat is closed and air forcefully expelled to produce a glottalized t.
tz tz As in the ts of “mats.”
tz, q, tz' Pronounced with the tongue in the same position as for the tz, but the
throat is closed and air forcefully expelled to produce a glottalized tz.
u, v, uu u As in the oo of “root”
v, u w As in the w of “wind.”
x x Pronounced like the sh in “shy.”
y, i y As in the y of “yellow.” When appearing as the terminal letter in a
word, it is pronounced like the ee in “eel,” immediately followed by an
English h as in “hot.”
' Glottalization mark for vowels. For example a' would be similar to the
pronunciation of the ott in the Scottish pronunciation of “bottle.”
Generally there is no equivalent for glottalized vowels in the Popol
Vuh, although occasionally a double vowel may have been intended to
serve this purpose.
I have used the modern alphabet in my literal translation and transcription of the Quiché
text. When pronouncing Maya words, the emphasis is always on the final syllable. When
pronouncing Nahua words, the emphasis is always on the next to last syllable.
Due to the haphazard nature of commas and periods in the Popol Vuh text, I have altered
the punctuation to conform with modern usage, but otherwise the grammatical constructions
and word order of the original manuscript have not been altered in the literal translation. In
order to avoid interpretations of spelling with regard to proper names, which in many cases
would be little more than a guess, I have left them in their original Parra Latin spelling. To
maintain consistency in this regard, I have used Quiché throughout this book, the spelling
found in the original manuscript rather than the modern K'iche'.