PITU SALLA.
She ought to number just ten years
According to the account I’ve kept.
CUSI COYLLUR.
And what is thy name?
YMA SUMAC.
They call me Yma Sumac now,
But to give it me is a mistake.
CUSI COYLLUR.
O my daughter! O my lost love,
Come to thy mother’s yearning heart.
(Embraces Yma Sumac.)
Thou art all my happiness,
My daughter, come, O come to me;
This joy quite inundates my soul,
It is the name I gave to thee.
YMA SUMAC.
O my mother, to find thee thus!
We must be parted never more.
Do not abandon me in grief.
To whom can I turn to free thee,
To whom can I appeal for right?
PITU SALLA.
Make no noise, my dearest friend.
To find us thus would ruin me.
Let us go. I fear the Mothers.
YMA SUMAC.
(to Cusi Coyllur).
Suffer a short time longer here,
Until I come to take thee hence,
Patience for a few more days.
Alas! my mother dear! I go,
But full of love, to seek for help.
(Exeunt closing the stone door, all but Cusi Coyllur. They extinguish the torch.)