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To 3/256 Cherokee Girl

Cute like the fly sun and with paddy curl hairs similar
From those summertime fields blow over her in full swim
And it fits in her small understanding
In front of this Adoptive Indian law
She grows like a lovely calf wondering it should not be.

Upon uplifted petals of her big eyes of half-brown
Indian bloom India Baby Girl a battle of love
And parents’ nightmare is breaking out for months
And the entire globe’s eye could see the idea
Of making a direct pain within her tender heart
And it does not matter you and I shall become
A parent and parching stirs and twist about father’s rights
He does not have it any more.

Flying among twinkly stars in faith
For the 3-year-baby girl the notion but a father’s lack
of Autumn and over the whole prairie shimmering
A compelled of him an Indian loves or ground
To the child he never felt before.

I think of those parental days of affection and love
When the Baby Girl was small and wanted it most;
Standing now in the sea of gestures, you great chief have missed
A cut generation goes by, and your conscience from what that weary buffalo
Love cries it certainly does not exist in your heart anymore.

Baby Girl!
Let us pray because I am going to take you home
Where you will be safe.
Baby Girl!
Let goes and come at last to understand
You and I and the prairie Mother
Always we are going to love you.

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