That she may not find dew
Vicuía of the hills, deer of the mountains,
Tell me if the ungrateful dove passed by,
The dove who left her love.
Tell me if she passed, the dove who forgot her love.
Vicuía of the hills, Taruka of the mountains
Come see how my eyes are crying, crying
Thus she left me with my heart wounded.
Oh that she may thirst upon
The road! That she may
Not find frost on the haystacks,
That she may not find dew on the grasses,
That she may thirst upon the road
The dove who forgot her love!