If you cast your eyes upon the skies
and behold the rain-clouds
See the saplings on the far river edge
listening to the blood-dance
If you would become their new Sun,
a balm for their anguish
They will wake, they will rise,
their branches will blossom

If from merky vision you wake
and see a wide-running river
You discern that on the far river edge
the light has left the tree tops
If you'd have the river carry water
so she rinses the blood
They will wake, they will rise,
their branches will blossom

When the end arrives for the flood
and the fire has burnt out
When all that's left here on the ground
are the quiet smoking root-stones
Then come the voices kind and calm,
"Once again, from Creation"
Then they will wake, they will rise,
their branches will blossom
They will wake, their branches will blossom
They will rise, their branches will blossom

Poetic translation by Richard D. Nidel, Jr.

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