Little Indian maiden, with buckskin boots
Born to a local tribe, known as the Paiutes
With her deerskin skirt, that barely covered her cheeks
When young braves came around, there knees grew week
A rabbits fur thong, covered her most intimate parts
For many a young brave, she had stolen their hearts
She wore a mid-drift vest, which only laced in the front
It came from the great buffalo, taken during a hunt
Her skin was colored, a light golden brown
She could move thru the woods, never making a sound
Her eyes were brown, like the fur of the bear
Three eagle feathers adorned, her flowing black hair
She had mastered the bow, and could ride like the wind
She had charm; she had grace, and a devilish grin
She could beat any brave, in a leg wrestling match
Pinning him down, without even a scratch
She caught fish like the bear, using only her hands
Everything she had, she had taken from the land
She had a wolf for a pet, which she raised since its birth
He was a black and gray, and more trouble than he was worth
She would join the elders, as they sat around the fire
Telling the stories, of the great warriors they admired
Like a ember from the fire, rising up to catch the wind
She rode out on a hunt, never to sit at the council again
Stories are told of her still to this day,
How a young Paiute maiden, simply faded away
Some say she still rides, with her wolf by her side
Way up in the stars, with the elders, as her celestial guide
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem