People from the Mountain

There dwelt in the mountains,
Life still in mud.
Breathing the high altitude air.
An excellent race:
By the veiled gods.

There dwelt in the mountains,
Where white skins conquer.
Forced them out to the wild.
For peace:
A gift from the gods.

And so they left for the wild
Voices whispering in the forest
Play gongs as if to call for the dead
As the old lady mysteriously chants,
Guide us, guide us, our ancestors!

Centuries of living,
There at the wilderness.
The crop of their thick hands
Sweet potatoes and boars
The dancing of sunflowers

The wilderness turned into a town
The town turned into city
Other races dwelt and settled
Laughed at and discriminated
The people from the mountains

Now, where are the gods?!
A story forgotten
They are at the east, and at the west (despair)
The gongs, the chants call no more
The ancestors are voiceless, a curse!

The witch of time
The witch of the lowlands
An infection to the mind
Of youth, of innocence
And the mountains are less traveled
...and so steep
While the witches swallowed the uncivilized.