SA-A NARAI So I heard it commanded, On the edge of the mesa, By the sitter on the mesa, Count thou, my son, the lights on South Star Trail; Sa-a Naraï Trust not time nor strength-they are twin liars; Sa-a Naraï On track of birth-dance the mourners wail Sa-a Naraï The Tribe moves on-count thou the fires. Sa-a Naraï Beads, a few in falling rain; grains in desert sand; Sa-a Naraï The door of night swings wide-it will not close. Still room for beads, dying hills for land; The door is open-the Soul Trail glows. I counted my sheep but not the bones; Sa-a Naraï A woman vows and goes her way; Sa-a Naraï Dust-wedded wealth-the desert owns— Sa-a Naraï Tomorrow smiles, while sad is yesterday. Sa-a Naraï Feast on wit and beauty-pendants of bone Sa-a Naraï The eye-strings tie two souls today. Sa-a Naraï Fill the earthen bowl-fill jar of stone Sa-a Naraï Tomorrow the empty socket fill with clay. There weaves a frost-chain, bends a flower; Youth blooms fresh-spring has not gone; Sa-a Naraï Winter gathers, gathers fruit of spring shower; Sa-a Naraï The frost-chain shakes-a soul moves on. Sa-a Naraï I saw a cripple, I saw a thief. Sa-a Naraï Go, hoe your corn with shoulder-blade of deer, Sa-a Naraï Where blows a wind, there stirs a leaf; Sa-a Naraï A bone enghosts a hoe-greed your spear. Sa-a Naraï If Red Moccasin moans, who knows the way? I am ashamed before that standing within me— The spirit upward flies-it will not stay; Follow soon, thou must, the Voice within thee. Shagwakwa laughs-in black night sings Sa-a Naraï Give me my mother's bones-unto me, dreams! A puff to the gods whither blue smoke wings- Smoke now with me- -soon the yellow line gleams. Eat thy mother's flesh-she is the corn: Sa-a Naraï Is there a stranger who is not thy brother? Sa-a Naraï The One Above sung life-lo, love was born! Sa-a Naraï Hast shared the gift of thy first mother? Sa-a Narai A little puff-a little kernel Sa-a Naraï The Tribe moves on-it will not stay. Sa-a Naraï . A little play by the trail eternal Sa-a Naraï A little puff-lo, the South Star Way So I heard it chanted. ON THE WAR-PATH Sa-a Naraï Hey-ye! Hey! Hey-now go, gather, gather living arrows, gather! Crouch, spring, run! Hey now, plume feather, feather-eagle flying feather- 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! NIGHT Woeful, hear the shadows creep; Woeful, hear the tread of sleep. Who spoke? It was a lone whip-poor-will By the fallen tree, chanting mournfully Striking his harp Of tears. Sweetness, see the stars appear; It was the smallest fire-fly, Here and there and now nowhere, To the little Below from the great Above, Of love. Lovely, see the moon aflush; It was the tiny hidden spring, A kiss from the Here to a golden Sphere; Lifting her lips In fear. Wondrous, hear the night-wings whir. |