To the people of Mexico:
To the peoples and governments of the world:
To the national and international press:
Brothers:
The Clandestine Revolutionary Indigenous Clandestine Committee-General Command of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation addresses you to say its word.
At this moment, tens of thousands of men, women, children and elders, all of them indigenous Mexicans, are gathered in hundreds of ejidos, rancherías, parajes and communities of the Mexican countryside. Our hands also reach into the heart of asphalt. In front of a three-colored flag with the image of an eagle devouring a snake in the center, all these people are united by our common misery, the collective oblivion in which we have been relocated for 501 years, the useless death we suffer, the fact that we have no face, that our name has been torn away from us, that we have bet our life and death on a future that is not ours. All these people are united by a collective yearning in front of this flag: to change once and for all the skies and soils that today oppress them. To do this, we, the nameless and faceless, the self-styled "professionals of hope", the more mortal than ever "transgressors of injustice", those of the mountain we are, those of the nocturnal passage, the voiceless in the palaces, the foreigners in their own land, those of eternal death, the dispossessed of history, those without a homeland and without tomorrow, those of the tender fury, those of the unvarnished truth, those of the long night of contempt, the true men and women... The smallest... The most worthy... The last... The best... We have to open again the door of our brother's heart to receive our word.
We must speak the truth through our mouth, we must put our hearts in our hands. Brothers, we want you to know who is behind us, who drives us, who walks on our feet, who dominates our heart, who rides on our words, who lives in our deaths.
We want you to know the truth already, brothers. And so it is:
From the first hour of this long night in which we die, so say our most distant grandparents, there was one who gathered our pain and our oblivion. There was a man who, walking his word from afar, came to our mountain and spoke with the language of true men and women. He was and was not of these lands, in the mouth of our dead, in the voice of the wise elders, his word walked from him to our heart. There was and there is, brothers, who being and not being seed of these soils to the mountain came, dying, to live again, brothers, he lived dying the heart of this own and foreign step when a house he made in the mountain of nocturnal roof. It was and is its name in the named things. His tender word stops and walks in our pain. It is and is not in these lands: Votán Zapata, guardian and heart of the people.
Votán Zapata, light that came from afar and was born here from our land. Votán Zapata, named name again and again in our people. Votán Zapata, shy fire that in our death lived 501 years. Votán Zapata, name that changes, faceless man, tender light that protects us. Votán Zapata came coming. Death was always with us. Dying was the death of hope. Coming came Votán Zapata. Name without name, Votán Zapata looked as Miguel, walked as José María, Vicente he was, named as Benito, flew as little bird, rode as Emiliano, shouted as Francisco, dressed Pedro. Dying he lived, named without name, in our land. Name without name, being came Votán Zapata in our land. Speaking he silenced his word in our mouth. Coming he is. Votán Zapata, guardian and heart of the people.
He is and is not everything in us... Walking is... Votán Zapata, guardian and heart of the people. Master of the night... Lord of the mountain... Us... Votán, guardian and heart of the people. One and many is. None and all. Being comes. Votán Zapata, guardian and heart of the people.
This is the truth, brothers. You must know it, it will die no more in our life, in our death it lives now and forever. Votán, guardian and heart of the people. Nameless is named, faceless face, all and none, one and many, living dead. Votán, guardian and heart of the people. Nightjar bird, always in front of us, behind us he walks. Votán, guardian and heart of the people.
He took name in our nameless being, face he took from the faceless, sky in the mountain he is. Votán, guardian and heart of the people. And our nameless and faceless path, name it took in us: Zapatista Army of National Liberation.
With this new name the nameless are named. With this flag gagging the face, we all have a new face. With this name is named the nameless: Votán Zapata, guardian and heart of the people.
Zapatista Army of National Liberation. Tender fury that arms itself. Unnamable name. Unjust peace that becomes war. Death that is born. Anguish made hope. Pain that laughs. Silent scream. Our own present for a foreign future. Everything for everyone, nothing for us. The unmentionables, we, the dead of always. We, foolish dignity, forgotten corner of our homeland. We, Zapatista Army of National Liberation. We, red and black flag under the tricolor eagle. We, red star at last in our sky, never the only star, one more yes, the smallest. We, only look and voice. We, Zapatista Army of National Liberation. We, Votán, guardian and heart of the people.
This is the truth brothers. This is where we come from. That is where we are going. Being comes. Dying death lives. Votán Zapata, father and mother, brother and sister, son and daughter, big and small, we, coming we are...
Receive our truth in dancing heart. Zapata lives, also and forever, in these lands.
Cheers, Mexican brothers! Cheers, peasants of this homeland!
Cheers, indigenous people of all lands! Cheers, Zapatista fighters!
Zapata, he is coming! Dying he lives!
Long live Zapata!
Democracy! Freedom! Justice!
From the mountains of the Mexican Southeast
C C R I – C G del E Z L N
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