maskêko-sâkahikan | |
poem: Mika Lafond | |
Cree translation: Gladys Wapass-Greyeyes | |
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ê-ati kîwêyân | homebound |
êpasakwâpîyan wâyaw pêci nâway niwâhpahtên kîkway kâpê kîwêtotamân niwîhkôtên nitaskîy nitaskîy mihcêt miciminam mamaskahc kîkwaya nipê asê kiwênikon itê ênistawêyitamân pêyatikwêyimôwin nitakâkêyitên oski miskamowina | closing my eyes I see a far off past. what brings me back home, the connection to my land. my land holds many wonders, I fall back on these comforts where familiarity brings me peace of mind and I delight in youthful discoveries: |
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asinîs êwâsapiskisot | how the sparkle of rock |
nimêskwâpimâw mina nimamitonêyitam | caught my eye and I imagined |
yiyiko êwîyôta nitaskîy | the riches of my land |
yitâmihk | buried deep |
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ayîkihsak pêhtâkosiwak | when the melody of frogs |
niwîhtamâkon ê-mîyoskamik | told me that spring had come, |
tâkâpan | its crisp morning air |
kâmîyo-tâkosicik piyêsîsak | the harmony of birds |
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kâkwâmwahci tipiskâk | where the silence of night |
nimîyikon pêyâhtik takana-wahpahtamân | gave me time for contemplation |
tânitawâpênamân nipawâtamôwina | to investigate my dreams |
mêscâkanis wanêwo-tam kâkwâmwâtaniyik | the simplicity broken only by coyote’s howl |
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kâpasoyân kimôwan | when the smell of rain |
nikiskisohikon nîpin | reminded me of summer freshness |
mwêstas kâ-misi kitocik | after the loud claps of thunder |
ê-pakamih-cîcêtotâkik | applauded the passing storm. |
kâ-ati mâyi kîsikâyik | |
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nisâsâkîtin ê-ati mîyaskamân kîkway kâ-miskamân kîsiwâw nikâwiy askiy okaskitêw-asîskiy miciminam nitôcêpihkoma nitaskîy miciminam nitehi nipê miskâson kîhtwâm kayâs âcimowini sâkihitôwinihk mina kâpâhpi nimiskên ita ê-ohciyan kâpê âhkamêyimocik ê-kiskinota-mawicik sakihitowin manâcisowin mina kisêwâcisiwin miskikâtêw nanaskomôwini mina atoskêwini | continuing past these findings I walk along barefoot, feel the warmth of mother earth, her soft black dirt that holds my roots. my land holds my heart. I come back again to find myself in old stories of love and laughter. I find my connection to family, their efforts to teach me that love, respect and kindness are founded in thankfulness and hard work. |
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nôhkom kipimohtâtam oma asiskîy | nôhkom walked this same soil |
ê-asamât ôpâhpahâkwânima | feeding her chickens |
nikiskinohamâk tanisisi pimacisowin êyispayik | teaching me about the cycle of life |
mêkwahc ê-wâsakâskâkot ositi | as they clucked around her feet. |
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nimôsom kî-pîkopitam askîy | nimôsom turned the packed earth |
mitâtahtomtanaw askîya aspin | one hundred years ago |
mina tâyiwêpîhtât otayimihowina | and the breadth of his struggles |
kêyapich nokwaniyow kistikanihk | can still be seen in the dancing fields. |
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ênitawi kiskisîyan êkoni kîsikâwa aspin wîyê | reminiscing on days gone by |
kâwi nimiyomâhcihon | I feel the joys again |
ninikîhikwak nipihkôtamâkwâk | my parents brought me. |
mîwêyimowin okayaw-siyiniwa ôchi | enjoyment of the fruits of their labor. |
nohtâwiy kistikêw okistikâni | my father sowing his crop: |
pêyakoskanâw wâpakwanîya | a row of lilies and roses |
kistikêw oskâtaskwa napatâkwa mina mâhtâmina | a garden of carrots, potatoes and corn |
misi kistikêw pahkwêsikanî kana | a vast field of wheat. |
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nikâwiy ayoskana | my mother’s luscious raspberries |
cîki êkôta | just a few steps away |
ayoskanâpoy | where the tangy red juices |
atihtêwa nîpihta mina nitôn | stained my lips and teeth. |
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nipê wâyinîn ita ê-ohciyân tawâhpahtamân pêyakwâw mina tapêyatikwêyimowin âsici acâhkosak | I come back to find solace in my history, to see the depth of the sky once more, to fall away to peacefulness with the stars. |
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nipêtên nitaskiy nikamôwin | I hear the song of my land, |
nikana-wapamawâk nicâpan-panak | watch my ancestors |
nimîhitowak akwanâna oskaskosi mina nîpâmayatan âkosiyiwa | as they dance in shawls of purple and green |
kiwêtinohk ôcisimôwak | across the northern sky |
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nipê kîwân | I come home again |
nikiskisomison | to remind myself |
niwîcêkon nitâskîy | my land is with me. |