That she may not find dew

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!