And what have we left but the graves beneath,
And, above, the waiting sky?
The Song of the Ancient People.
My Father, have pity on me!
I have nothing to eat,
I am dying of thirst—
Everything is gone!
Arapaho Ghost Song.
And what have we left but the graves beneath,
And, above, the waiting sky?
The Song of the Ancient People.
My Father, have pity on me!
I have nothing to eat,
I am dying of thirst—
Everything is gone!
Arapaho Ghost Song.