Ñawinchay, mayqin simipi:
Runasimi 
castellano
My words cannot conjure the things you do
my idle tongue
writes towards a vanishing
My words cannot enclose all that you are
a trembling of thorns
absolutes exist nowhere
My words are no match for your retreat
give voice to my affliction
say fire
Chayna purisqaypim
saykusqa…
Qunqaymanta
sapallay kasqayta unanchakuykuni.
Llaqtaymanta sapay
aylluymanta sapay
mama simiymanta sapallay.
“Pachaqa awqamanmi tikrakunman
sichus llapa ima riqsisqanchik
chinkaptin” ukuypaq nini.
Hinaptin huk llampu sunqu
quñi pukruchuta qawaykachiwan…
Chaypis ñakayniyta samaykachiyman.
Huk llaqtaman mitmayqa,
huk simiman hapipakuspa
yapamanta paqarispa rimay qallaykuymi.
Chaynaspapas, astawan mama simiman
astawan ayllu llaqtaman sunquchakuymi.
“Yuyayniy tuta utiruptin
qam kasqaytahina
ñuqa kasqaykitahina
rikchapakuwan.”
Hinaptin makiykiwan haywakuni.
Hinaptin makillaywan chaskikunki.
Huk llakilla, huk pinqaylla, huk runalla.
Chaypis takiyman wischukuykunchik:
“Vidallay vida
suertellay suerte…
Kristal vasuchahina
chullalla vida…
Kristal vasuchahina
chullalla suerte…”
You see nothing more than two-hundred animals,
identical.
Yet I can recognize each by her laughter.
And yes of course they laugh.
They intertwine their necks with the wind and they dance.
In the desolate, forbidding mountains
on the dark and silent paths
daily we walk together
sometimes they, sometimes I,
lead the march.
Like Bach’s sorrowful hymns
they dissipate…
Sometimes swiftly, sometimes placidly
until upon us, the night descends.
And when the appointed day arrives
to Mother Earth I shall express my gratitude
to my dear animal, my appreciation,
and I will slaughter her.
I won’t waste a single drop of her blood…
Only we know of this exhortation
Only we know who we are
and although we shall cry knowing all of this, so shall we rejoice.
In the silent, distant meadows,
I am a herder.
Chinkana machaykunaman riq.
Mana riqsisqa ñankunaman
atipakuq!
Mana qasilla kaq
kita!
Mana takyay atiq
sallqa!
Millay!
Intillay, killallay
ama sak’ewaychu,
karurak’mi rinay
tutayallaymanmi.
Sumak’ siwar k’enti,
ama jarkawaychu,
mamallaysi maskawan
uñan chinkachik’ urpi jina.
Cilili, cilili wayta,
k’awachkankim kay vidayta
mayu jina wak’ask’ayta
wayra jina k’aparispa.
Imprison my flesh, if you want,
Harm my heart, if you want,
Tear away my hair, if you want,
Tie my hands and feet, if you want.
Perhaps,
Maybe you do not stop
Until you see my body rot.
If it is going to be like that,
Only my worms will take me to my mother Pachamama.
I will be there too!
I will feed the trees
with my rotting skin.
Yes,
I will grow fruit in any plant
So that my brothers
So that my sisters
Will be fed.
And, then my brothers,
And then my sisters
They will be strengthened
With my rebirth.
And, likewise,
I will scream
In the voices of my brother and sister:
“Yes! I’m Quechua!”
Do what you want!
Do what you want!
But, Never ever
Will you take away
who I am.
