Mountains and rivers have I crossed,
But gold only once did I see.
How passing fair the vision of
The Lady of Cofitachequi!

She gave me her own strand of pearls;
I wish she’d given me her heart,
With the affection of her limbs
And the comfort that they’d impart.

I knew I could never win her,
So I tried to force her to go
So she could be my chieftainess,
But she escaped this Hidalgo.

Her cunning stays with me in dream,
I see her carried by her men.
Each time I see a native’s face,
I can but think of her again.

Battles roiled in blood have raged on;
Though wounded I could never die,
Not because I am a sun god,
But because of my love whereby

I have been healed of all my wounds,
Since I’m determined to return
To her in Cofitachequi,
Though she might have me killed or burned.

There’s a fever that’s taken me,
Which history will not retell
Since it’s the ague of the heartsick.
To be a Conquistador’s hell.

Moscoso, say you’ve buried me
In the river while it’s still night.
I’m dead to the expedition;
When I find her, I’ll be all right.

I need not follow my carnage
Since its course winds about too much
And would delay far too greatly
The reception of her sweet touch.

I must only follow the sun
Until at last my heart is home.
Not even death can stop me now.
Take command, Moscoso; I’m gone.