In the absence of any Law, there
was once upon a time order,
order without any crime, and
loyalty and love without a penalty.
Can you imagine such a serene springtime?
Could you image just one Navajo Indian Tribe?
Spinning & weaving, hunting and fishing,
farming and growing, living and loving in relative peace
bivouacking under buffalo hides
gently, grinning ear to ear, with razor-sharpened teeth
teeth sharpened for indigenous decoration.
Not to start any hostilities, of course, I could be wrong
even predawn Eden may have been stillborn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem