Step STOOL to the maqtillus of the community of Carapa, which still continue running with hat in hand and agitated rebellious hair in Pastoqata communal camps. To the residents of the two neighbourhoods of Carapa, whom I pitting them with tenderness, faith and hope. Ay Malayan life! waychaw, your early riser singing is malaguero, pronounced the misfortune. Already, already stops singing, not whatsapp that worth to grow in my heart. The sky dawned black, almost without light, cloudy. Green meadows, on the edge of the distant hills amanecian the clouds, the Paqchapunku as a soft cotton tended everywhere hiding the frigid field and animals. Already almost began the morning with a downpour, some maqtillus were already heading to the Pastoqata, Dona Maria already walked watching his cows, frightening the yutus (partridges) early risers who desenterraban newly seeded corns.
Black heaven is not frightened. He was happy the yours sing tomorrow, happy in the Duraznal, the zorzalitos pecking the wet ground with their sharp beaks catch worms. All the roads the comuneros of targeting their chores, from the top of the Hill, it is the whole town. I like a Falcon from the Summit perceived anchuroso outfield and since then I heard the melodic whistle of an enamorador boy; It was Aristides, so hurried was approaching Qotawatiri, the also came in search of their bulls to the Pastoqata, common Hill from the village. Aristides is the only: the Parrot of the Gorge, boisterous, friend of the maqtillus, has a different whistle, is own, strong, from the distant hills is clear. From Qala qala looked at all the outskirts of Carapa, from side to side, to the extent of the view. The village is poor and humble. It is plaintive view from the Summit, I was good while thinking, looking at the greenness of the field, of the cornfields that was beginning to play with the winds, the bulls screaming, boisterous echoes the Paqchapunku and even far Aristides continued whistling.