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Titre : Annual report of the Bureau of American ethnology to the Secretary of the Smithsonian institution

Auteur : Bureau of American ethnology (Washington, D.C.). Auteur du texte

Éditeur : Government printing office (Washington)

Date d'édition : 1929

Contributeur : Powell, John Wesley (1834-1902). Directeur de publication

Notice du catalogue : http://catalogue.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb37575968z

Notice du catalogue : https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb37575968z/date

Type : texte

Type : publication en série imprimée

Langue : anglais

Format : Nombre total de vues : 40082

Description : 1929

Description : 1929 (N47)-1930.

Description : Note : Index.

Droits : Consultable en ligne

Droits : Public domain

Identifiant : ark:/12148/bpt6k27660k

Source : Bibliothèque nationale de France

Conservation numérique : Bibliothèque nationale de France

Date de mise en ligne : 15/10/2007

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That their arms may be broken by thé snow,

In order that the land may be thus,

1 have made my prayer sticks into living beings.

Following wherever thé roads of the rain makers come out,

May the ice blanket spread out,

May the ice blanket cover the country;

All over the land

May the flesh of our earth mother

Crack open from the cold;

That your thoughts may bend to this,

That your words may be to this end;

For this with prayers 1 send you forth.

When our earth mother is replete with living waters,

When spring comes,

The source of our flesh,

All the different kinds of corn,

We shall lay to rest in the ground.

With their earth mother's living waters,

They will be made into new beings.

Coming out standing into the daylight

Of their sun father,

Calling for rain,

To all sides they will stretch out their hands.

Then from wherever the rain makers stay quietly

They will send forth their misty breath;

Their massed clouds filled with water will come out to sit down with us; Far from their homes,

With outstretched hands of water they will embrace the corn,

Stepping down to caress them with their fresh waters,

With their fine rain caressing the earth,

With their heavy rain caressing the earth,

And yonder, wherever the roads of the rain makers come forth, Torrents will rush forth,

Silt will rush forth,

Mountains will be washed out,

Logs will be washed down,

Yonder ail the mossy mountains

Will drip with water.

The clay-lined hollows of our earth mother

Will overflow with water,

From ail the lakes

Will rise the cries of the children of the rain makers,

In all the lakes

There will be joyous dancing–

Desiring that it should be thus,

1 send forth my prayers.

That our earth mother

May wear a fourfold green robe,

Full of moss,

Full of flowers,

Full of pollen,

That the land may be thus

1 have made you into living beings.