The people returned to their houses,
The priests to their fastings and labors,
The Twain to their high mountain-places.
And when the eight days had been counted
And all had been done as commanded,
Around the deep pool in the valley,
That leads from the walled Hán‘hlipiŋk‘ya
The sacred seed-contents were gathered.
And full in their midst the great drum jar
Was placed by the summoned clan-fathers.