Sky is heavy with clouds
Wind tries to carry me clothes
Like a kite floating in the sky
The sound of the gods fighting
I can here, it is raining
Through my hair, drops of water run

Cascading down waterfalls
Mist covered mountain ranges
Down poured torrential rains
Vast stretches of paddy fields
Various kind of flora and fauna
We are attaches in these all

Sky is heavy with clouds
Wind tries to carry me clothes
Like a kite floating in the sky
The sound of the gods fighting
I can here, it is raining
Through my hair, drops of water run

How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

Every part of the Earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clear and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memory and experience of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man.