Written by: George Zamalea

I found peace 
	with the scorching
	Heat of the winter
against the immense sunsets!

	Through the huge 
	animal's bones
as if it were a sense of 
	personal freedom
such as the chilling-spirit.

Here I found the given mother,
	twinning waterfalls, 
	which, all beavers	
and done, the hole land is reflected
	to you through my incensed eyes!

	But when I sought the hawk, 
along the hunting past, 
	I found the blanket,
Powder, Tobaccoes, Knives, 
	trappers and fur,
	entwining before me the immense 
of this peaceful spot!

	Ah! clear in the funky river,
the soul, our soul!
the sweet water to the bone,
	opening high the evil-tempered past,
the struggle golden mass,
with unnatural bloom.	
	who comes no more.