It was so cold it was bitter, to quit hurt my pride.
If I'd stayed any longer, I surely would have died.
So it's out of the bush and down out of the cold.
I'll wait till next summer, to search for the gold.
Well I crossed the river and rounded the bend.
Stopped off at Chitna, to see an old friend.
He invited me in and we sat down to chat.
There's this big odd thing and I said what that?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem