Indio

The brave indigenous man lived
with his dark-skinned and humble people
Where life flowed
from a clear spring

He knew the mysteries of the flora and
fauna because they were his siblings
He knew that the lightning and the morning sun
have a healthy romance

Indigenous, indigenous
where is he;
in what distant reality is your voice?
Where is the power that your song raised
against the vile conqueror?

Indigenous, indigenous
was your blood
perhaps to the sea?
Or does it flow in my veins like an unmatched river,
offering your good courage

The chief raised the club
And with the axe pierced a skull
Poor wuinca, poor race
The machi with her kultrún sang

Roars of Arauco with furious rage
In the fight until today
Thunder of shrapnel against skins played
Their dreadful melody

Indigenous, indigenous,
where is he;
In what distant reality is your voice?
Where is the power that your song raised
Against the vile conqueror?

Indigenous, indigenous,
was your blood
Perhaps to the sea?
Or does it flow in my veins like an unmatched river,
offering your good courage