On the edge of the mesa,
By the sitter on the mesa,
In the season of falling leaves:
Count thou, my son, the lights on South Star Trail;
Sa-a Narai
Trust not time nor strength-they are twin liars;
Sa-a Narai
On track of birth-dance the mourners wail-
Sa-a Narai
The Tribe moves on-count thou the fires,
Sa-a Narai
Beads, a few in falling rain; grains in desert sand;
Sa-a Narai
The door of night swings wide-it will not close.
Sa-a Narai
Still room for beads, dying hills for land;
Sa-a Narai
The door is open-the Soul Trail glows,
Sa-a Narai
I counted my sheep but not the bones;
Sa-a Narai
A woman vows and goes her way;
Sa-a Narai
Dust-wedded wealth-the desert owns-
Sa-a Narai
Tomorrow smiles, while sad is yesterday.
Sa-a Narai
Feast on wit and beauty-pendants of bone-
Sa-a Narai
The eye-strings tie two souls today.
Sa-a Narai
Fill the earthen bowl-fill jar of stone-
Sa-a Narai
Youth blooms fresh-spring is not gone;
Sa-a Narai
Winter gathers, gathers fruit of spring shower;
Sa-a Narai
The frost-chain shakes-a soul moves on.
Sa-a Narai
I saw a cripple, I saw a thief.
Sa-a Narai
Go, hoe your corn with shoulder-blade of deer
Sa-a Narai
Where blows a wind, there stirs a leaf.
Sa-a Narai
A bone enghosts a hoe-greed your spear.
Sa-a Narai
If Red Moccasin moans, who knows the way?
Sa-a Narai
I am ashamed before that standing within me-
Sa-a Narai
The spirit upward flies-it will not stay;
Sa-a Narai
Follow soon, thou must, the Voice within thee.
Sa-a Narai
Shagwakwa laughs-in black night sings-
Sa-a Narai
Give me my mother's bones-unto me, dreams!
Sa-a Narai
A puff to the gods whither blue smoke wings-
Sa-a Narai
Smoke now with me-soon the yellow line gleams.
Sa-a Narai
Eat thy mother's flesh-she is the corn:
Sa-a Narai
Is there a stranger who is not thy brother?
Sa-a Narai
The One Above sung life-lo, love was born!
Sa-a Narai
Has shared the gift of thy first mother?
Sa-a Narai
A little puff-a little kernel-
Sa-a Narai
The Tribe moves on-it will not stay,
Sa-a Narai
A little play by the trail eternal-
Sa-a Narai
A little puff-lo, the South Star Way . . .
So I heard it chanted.
Hey!
Hey - now go, gather, gather living arrows, gather!
Stand ye in the white dawn -
Crouch, spring, run!
Hey, now pray power of storm!
Hey, now pray lightning's bolt!
Hey, now pray power of flint!
Hey, now pray weather, weather -
war-like stormy weather!
Slay ye in the yellow dawn -
Crouch, spring, run!
Hey, now go, gather, gather,
bleeding bonnets gather - huh!
Indians |