El Condor Pasa

In the Inca empire
The Indian is
Without light, he is alone
He is sad

Behind the silences it will remain
Never, never again, he will return
The Inca has already left
To die towards the sun
And in his soul a condor goes
To cry his pain flying

Fly, fly the condor
The immensity, shadow of the high plateau
Dream of the American race
Blood of the Indian race

The Inca has been betrayed
Crying the quenas are
The Pachamama taught the coya
To die for freedom