Chola Soy

I am a chola, do not pity me
For those are coins that are worthless
Given by the whites as if giving silver
We cholos ask for nothing
Because with nothing missing
Everything is enough

Leave me in the highlands, to live freely
Climbing the hills behind my goats
Plowing the land, weaving ponchos, grazing my llamas
And letting the wind carry the sound of my quena
You say I am sad, what do you want me to do?

Don't you say that the cholo is soulless
And that he is like a stone, without voice, without words
Crying inside, without showing tears

Were it not the whites who came from Spain
Who brought death for gold and silver
There was a Pizarro who killed Atahualpa
After many promises, beautiful and false

Oh
I am a chola

Leave me in the highlands to live freely
Climbing the hills behind my goats
Plowing the land, weaving ponchos, grazing my llamas
And letting the wind carry the sound of my quena
Leave me in peace, for here the mountain
Offers me its stones, perhaps softer
Than those condolences that you give me

I am a chola, do not pity me!