El Alazán [English translation]

He was a ribbon of fire,

galloping, galloping

An unruly mane in flames,

I am calling you my sorrel.

He climbed the mountains with the moon,

crossed the snowing valleys.

A hundred roads we traveled,

I am calling you my sorrel.

What dark lariat of snow

lassoed you by the precipice?

How did you not see it?

What star were you seeking?

In the bottom of the abyss,

not even one voice to call him.

Alone he was dying,

my horse, my horse.

On the fork of a felled tree

there is a lone satchel,

and there is a corral without neighings,

I am calling you my sorrel.

If it is as some say,

that there are heavens for a good horse,

there will be my steed,1

galloping, galloping.

A dark lariat of snow

lassoed you by the precipice.

How did you not see it?

What star were you seeking?

In the bottom of the abyss,

not even one voice to call him.

Alone he was dying,

my horse, my horse.

1. flete>>> Riding horse of very good qualities.

• Artist:Atahualpa Yupanqui