Page:The Incas of Peru.djvu/416

Destined to be servant of the Sun?
In contemplating Him there's peace.
Yma Sumac. Pitu Salla, ever you repeat
The same thing and the same advice;
I will open to thee my whole heart,
And say exactly what I think.
Know that to me this court and house
Are insupportable—no less;
The place oppresses—frightens me—
Each day I curse my destiny.
The faces of all the Mama Cuna
Fill me with hatred and disgust,
And from the place they make me sit,
Nothing else is visible.
Around me there is nothing bright,
All are weeping and ne'er cease;
If I could ever have my way,
No person should remain within.
I see the people pass outside,
Laughing as they walk along.
The reason it is plain to see—
They are not mewed and cloistered here,
Is it because I have no mother,
That I am kept a prisoner?
Or is it I'm a rich novice?
Then from to-day I would be poor.
Last night I could not get to sleep,
I wandered down a garden walk;
In the dead silence of the night,
I heard one mourn. A bitter cry,
As one who sought and prayed for death.
On every side I looked about,
My hair almost on end with fright,
Trembling, I cried, 'Who canst thou be?'
Then the voice murmured these sad words: