He came from the mountains to our little town
And he never spoke a word.
But he played every day in a lovely way
Little tunes I had never heard.
When he played his flute,
His eyes seemed to be like mirrors of times gone by.
I don´t know, if I saw what I should not see,
But I looked into his heart,
I looked right into his heart.
He´s an Indio boy
And his folks, faraway, they are praying:
«Indio boy, come home
when you are a man!»
He´s an Indio boy, and he longs for the girl
who is waiting.
Indio boy, come home as soon
as you can!
I found out one evening only by chance
Where he spent his lonely nights:
There he slept in the church on the marble floor
And his flute lay by his side.
As I woke him up and said «Won´t you come
to my house where it´s nice and warm?»
He said,»Please, let me be,
for I am not free
And I don´t wanna break your heart,
I don´t wanna break your heart.»
He´s an Indio boy
And his folks, faraway, they are praying:
«Indio boy, come home
when you are a man!»
He´s an Indio boy, and he longs for the girl
who is waiting.
Indio boy, come home as soon
as you can!
When early one morning I came to the place
Where he used to play his flute,
He was gone, but a song that will never die
Seemed to linger on in the sky.
He´s an Indio boy
And his folks, faraway, they are praying:
«Indio boy, come home
when you are a man!»
He´s an Indio boy, and he longs for the girl
who is waiting.
Indio boy, come home as soon
as you can!