The language of my people is difficult for you to understand:
So I will write this in your tongue.

‘Singing Woman Lake’ is my people's name for her;
But she is known by you as, ‘Rhapsody In Blue’.

Always a song was on her waters calling to us:
To rise up in the morning;
To eat our morning meal facing her;
To hunt along the hem of her skirt;
To fish, to swim, to dance;
To eat our evening meal listening to her wisdom;
To sit beside her and tell our stories;
To sleep beneath the evening star.

Always a beautiful scent was on her waters:
Of wild Roses;
Of pine and fir;
Of apple and cherry;
Of children bathing;
Of young beavers;
Of deer browsing;
Of women washing.

Always a pause in her singing was noticed:
A morning star rising;
A husband and wife standing beside her, raising their hands to
the sky and praying;
A dove’s feather floating;
A bird skimming;