Cantuta

For whom do you bloomon the lofty Andes?Maybe this is an inexplicable riddleWhen a thousand voicesencircle you from all directionsthe desire of lonely branches to extendtoward starlight in the night will fadeAt dawn, glistening dew is clearthe sun’s rays pierce through lonelinessThere’s no answer from the pure skyYou eventually fall asleep on the earth’s skullwithout the slightest bit of hesitation, unconventionalas a passionate love affairawaiting an endless momentI know, Cantuta, beautiful princessof this Indigenous American realm,only when you hear the moving pan flutedo you reveal your saintly face