Aya allpayachu akurani
aya
upallalla chuyunyaq
simiyuq kanallaypaq

urpi ñawillaymi
kausayta munashkan
¡kay!
Wañuy
nina qaqa kañay pachapi
chaki sonqoypi

¡Ay!
Yana allpatam takani
mitu chakiyman
yaku makiyman

paralla chayaykamuy
intilla kanchiykamuy
llapa tulluymi
katkatashkan

chaki sonqoyñataqmi
tallikuykushkan
lambras qasa mayuchanman

¡Ay!
Sirkaypi jintil
yawar mitmaqniy
wichay apullay
qawariwayña
kausayqa
manam kausayñanchu

asnaq
pukium qoltutumushkan
kay
nanaq, ñausa

karu rinri pachapi
aya allpañachu kanipas
¡mamallay, taytallay!
Manañam
kay vida kanichu

jarawillaymi uyarikushkan
kay pacha
anan pachamanta
richaparikunapaq

Jarawi¹

Have I eaten the soil of the dead
that my tongue should dwindle soundlessly
into a fearful silence? 

My dove eyes
wish so much to live here!
Into Death
into the fire of the rocks
into the burning of the Earth
into my drained heart 

Alas!
I am digging black soil
on my feet of mud
on my hands of water

Rain come right away!
Sun brighten up at once!
All my bones
are shuddering 

And my dry heart
is spilling out
in the ravine
in the lambras trees²
where the small river runs.

Alas!
Venerable Apu,
your ancestral lineage,
blood of jintilis³, flows into my veins.
My loved Mountain Lord,
look at me at once!
Living in this world
is wellbeing no longer.

The fetid Puquio
is outflowing
across this tormented, blind, and deaf Earth.

My dear father, my dear mother,
I am the soil of the dead now.
I am dying among groans and tears.

But my Jarawi is being heard
from this ruined landscape
toward the higher universes
to arouse us
to feel the urge of life. 

Yana Chirapa

Mana yupiqmi kasqanki
yana puyu punchuyuq
uchku ñawiyuq upallalla
maypitaq makiki kanman
yuraq asiyniykipas 

sumaqta
qamta qawaykuptiypa
mana imam kasqanki 

qanwanmi puriyta munani
ukuyniypi rumi chinkaqta
tapuykunaypaq 

imanasqam
kay pacha wakcha?
Imanasqam
kay tuta mana killayuq?
Imanasqam
llaqtanchikpi

aya
jawan pura, jawan pura
Qorontallaña, kuchpa, kuchpa
sapachallanku
manchariy pinchityaq
tuta chaupimpi?

Yana chirapa wari taytallay
qam piña, piña
wañuchikuq kaq
kay vidapa manam
juchaykichu, ripukusun

qawaykullasaq
yana chirapaykita
pachakunaman
llakiyta anyaykunaypaq
asiyniyta pukuykunaypaq
manchariyniytapas
sonqoykipi pakaykunaypaq. 

Yana Chirapa⁴

You, the one with no footsteps
with a poncho of black cloud
and emptied eyes,
how softly you walk into the night

Where might I find your hands,
your white smile? 

I saw you and I saw you so many times
and you have been nothing. 

I wish I were walking in your company
toward the lost stone
in the depths of my insides

Please, give me your advice:
Why is this life, this time, abandoned?
Why is this night without the moon?
Why do the corpses
stacked like corontas⁵
one on top of the other
roll and roll alone across our land
in the middle of the anguish that glows
tonight?

My father Wari
Yana Chirapa
Severe Lord
who kills with ire
You are not guilty for this life 

The time has come,
reveal to me your black rainbow,
show it to all the worlds
to let my laments sound
to blow away my smiles
and hide my terror
in your heart.

Translated from Quechua to English by Christian Elguera

The translator expresses his gratitude to the author and the poets Gloria Cáceres Vargas and Fredy Roncalla for their insights and feedback.

From the poetry collection Jarawi (1999)

1 Song of death.
2 Traditional tree in Andean landscapes.
3 Ancestors in the Andean world.
4 The Mountain Lord Wari transforms into a black rainbow. Whoever sees this lethal deity dies, vomiting blood.
5 Corn husk.

Photo: ALEX LENZ, Unsplash

Editor’s Note: This poem is available to read in Quechua and English. Scroll down to read in English.

Kichka uma
tankar kichka
ñawiymantam
yuraq qasa inti suturimun

chuyunyaq orkokunapi
Wanchuy chuya maypi

sapan
sapachallan

yana tutawan maytukuykuspa
llakillay
puriptin.
Chaynama
llaqtanchik
yuraq qasa inti lloqlla
kay
chaki allpapi
laswa sachachakuna laqwasq jina

Kichka uma
tankar kichka
ñawiymantam
layqa

rimarimun

manañam
laswa sachachakuna kanku

allpatam
patarichimunku
raku raku sapinkunawan

ninayasqaña
qaqayasqaña

llipipikuq
sacha kaspa.

*

Little Tankar¹ of thorny head,
ice crystals like a white sun
fall from my eyes
over desolated regions, where the Orqos² lives,
over pristine waters born in the Wanchuy tree³.

Lonely
very lonely,
the body is one with the fateful night
when my sorrow walks across this land.
Our territory is like
a white frost
a sun of dust.
This infertile land
is crawling like the muddy and fallen trees in an avalanche.

Little Tankar of thorny head,
through my eyes
the Layqa⁴ speaks in this land
And there are no muddy and fallen trees anymore

The trees
are shaking the soils with its strong roots

What a fire is burning now!
What perennial rock is rising now!

Because they are new beings, splendid trees!

Translated from Quechua to English by Christian Elguera

From the book Jarawi (Lima: Editorial Universidad Federico Villarreal, 2000)

¹ The Tankar is an Andean tree with a thorny body.

² In the Andes, local people consider Orqos or mountains as mighty beings.

³ Andean populations believe trees such as the Wanchuy to be the mothers of rivers.

⁴ According to Guaman Poma de Ayala and Cristobal de Molina, Layqa means a diabolic sorcerer. However, Layqa is an indigenous religious specialist with the skills to interact with powerful deities or non-human entities in Andean rituals.

Photo: Woman weaving, Cusco, Peru, by Adrian Dascal, Unsplash.