The Path on the Rainbow: Songs From The Eastern Woodlands: Abanaki Songs

My parents think they can separate me from the girl I love;
We have vowed to love each other while we live.
Their commands are vain: we shall see each other while the world lasts.
Yes! let them say or do what they like; we shall see each other while the rocks stand.

Here I sit on this point, whence I can see the man that I love.
Our people think that they can sever us; but I shall see him while the world lasts.
Here shall I remain, in sight of the one I love.

Now I am left on this lonely island to die—
No one to hear the sound of my voice.
Who will bury me when I die?
Who will sing my death-song?

My false friends leave me here to die alone;
Like a wild beast, I am left on this island to die.
I wish the wind spirit would carry my cry to my love!
My love is swift as the deer; he would speed through the
forest to find me.
Now I am left on this lonely island to die.
I wish the wind spirit would carry my cry to my love!
My love is as swift as the deer; he would speed through the
forest to find me;
Now I am left on this lonely island to die.
I wish the spirit of air would carry my breath to my love.
My love's canoe, like sunlight, would shoot through the water
to my side;
But I am left on this lonely island to die, with no one to pity
me but the little birds.
My love is brave and strong; but, when he hears my fate, his
heart will break.
And I am on this lonely island to die.
Now the night comes on, and all is silent but the owl.
He sings a mournful song to his mate, in pity for me.
I will try to sleep.
I wish the night spirit to hear my song; he will tell my love of
my fate; and when I awake, I shall see the one I love.
I am on this lonely island to die.

Come, my beloved, let us go up that shining mountain, and
sit together on that shining mountain; there we will watch
the Sun go down in beauty from that shining place.
There we will sit, till the Night Traveler arises in beauty
about the shining mountain; we will watch him as he
climbs to the beautiful skies.

We will also watch the little Stars following their chief.
We will also watch the Northern Lights playing their game of
ball in their cold, glistening country.
There we will sit, on the beautiful mountain, and listen to the
Thunder beating his drum.
We will see the flashes from the lit pipe of the Lightning.
We will see the great Whirlwind race with Squall.
There we will sit, until all creatures drowse.
There we will hear the great Owl sing his usual song: "Go-to-
sleep-all," and see all animals obey his call.
There we will sit in beauty on the mountain, and watch the
small Stars in their sleepless flight.
They do not mind the song, "go-to-sleep-all"; neither will we
mind it, but sit more closely together, and think of
nothing but ourselves, on the beautiful mountain.
Again, the "go-to-sleep-all" will be heard, and the Night
Traveler will come closer to warn us that all are sleeping,
except ourselves and the little Stars.
They and their chief are coursing along, and our minds go
with them.
Then the Owl sleeps; no more is heard "go-to-sleep-all";
the Lightnings flash afar; the great pipe is going out; the
Thunder ceases beating his drum; and though our bodies
urge us to be sleeping, we sit in beauty still upon the
shining mountain.