El Indio y La Quena

Her name was Quena, one day she asked her little Indian lover
I want gold from the Sun, bring me gold from the Sun
The young Indian set off towards the west
Crossed mountains, rocky paths, and strange lands
But he found no gold from the Sun

He returned then to the stone, but Quena was gone
Pachamama had punished her
Turning her into a small piece of cane

The Indian called to the four winds
Quena! Quena!
By a strange impulse, he brought to his lips
The piece of bamboo and sighed her name

Since then, the sacred mountain has a new song
Added to the solitude of the ranges

Old player of the quena
Silence, bronze, and pain!
Anguish of five notes
That no one ever heard

Profile of the Andean condor
Face smoothed by the wind
Eyes full of silences
And hands of a laborer

How much stone on the roads
All his life he found!
A miracle that his heart
Wasn't turned to stone.