My years of hot sunny days are over
Within the secret socks of early days
When a leg was a leg, because of its kick
When a hand was a hand due to its work
Those days of racking morning moons
Singing the song of horns
When elders are sitting around the fire
Narrating unforgettable tales
These are our life tales
It was the olden days indeed
When I knew nothing at all
I wish could remain in those days;
However, my days stormed into manhood
Where I should not hide under wood
This is where the days I knew, what I eat and
Wear, cost a breath and sweat
of all humankind and beasts