Arauco Tiene Una Pena

Arauco has a sorrow
That I cannot silence
They are injustices of centuries
That everyone sees being applied
No one has provided a remedy
When it could be remedied
Rise up, Huenchullán

One day comes from afar
The conquering Huescufe
Seeking mountains of gold
That the Indian never sought
The Indian is content with the gold
That shines from the Sun
Rise up, Curimón

Then the blood runs
The Indian doesn't know what to do
They are going to take his land
He has to defend it
The Indian falls dead
And the outsider stands
Rise up, Manquilef

Where did Lautaro go
Lost in the blue sky
And the soul of Galvarino
Was taken by the southern wind
That's why they pass by crying
The skins of his kultrún
Rise up, then, Callfull

Since the year fourteen hundred
The afflicted Indian is
In the shadow of his ruca
They can see him whimpering
Five-century totora
Will never dry up
Rise up, Callupán

Arauco has a sorrow
Blacker than his chamal
They are no longer the Spaniards
Who make them cry
Today it's the Chileans themselves
Who take away their bread
Rise up, Pailahuán

The votes are already roaring
They are heard incessantly
But why won't the Indian's lament
Be heard?
Even if the voice of Caupolicán
Resounds from the grave
Rise up, Huenchullán