The town crier has lost his voice
from the gathering of clouds
the great one has called a meeting
and asked why the waters fall on only this roof today
from their eyes, upon their roofs.
This same song sung by the night
the silent dance taught to still
to steal our feet from the footpaths
footpath that led to the market square
where we smiled and laughed
as we drank zumunci to the heart.
Ah!
Is there no market today?
No chattering or jeering of happy children too?
Hmmmm, is this music too for us to dance?
that the drummers have misled the drums
to beat thunderous noise that evokes the bad masquerade,
shall our doors find their frames and lock?
what is this thing that is lost?
I thought the only fighter that fights
is the one who understands the language
spoken by the ground,
so when his back romances it
we shall cheer with tears.
Baga!
Hen ka'at a goe, gurum goe na poe ni ka gong.
you have become the hunter
watching over as we prey (pray) the creator.
this voiceless song you have indulged our lips
will never be forgotten,
this dance shall our bones draw maps on the ground.
For this battle you have being summoned alone
we remember you for the victory we have called upon your name.
as you always led the battle always and become
a blinded wolf of Song Kurmi.
teaching us to hold good eyes
and bear soft hearts.
Carry our greetings as you always bore
and tell them all of the stories we shall write (right).
Rest well Miskoom, we will now tuck in your bed well so you can sleep
this is a small piece for you to rest in peace.
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