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On the Trail of Yesterday
Broken then was the heart of Onjinjintka— Withered as the leaf in autumn was the spirit
of Onjinjintka, the Rose. At the dawn she awoke and found him not, Found not her white lover by her side, In the dark night he had departed.
His trail led to a great trail—
A great trail made by many wagons;
For he had found his kind.
The white man had found his people.
For him Onjinjintka wailed as for the dead,
Broken was the heart of Onjinjintka, the Rose.
We heard her wailing in the darkness, Wailing for her love in the darkness. She wandered afar into the Spirit Hills. Her father called her and she answered not, We waited and she returned not, Empty were our hearts without Onjinjintka, the Rose.
Hearken, the wind comes through the pines, It is the voice of her—
It is the voice of her wailing in the darkness, Wailing for him who loved her not. We shiver as we listen to her wailing, Empty are our hearts without Onjinjintka, the Rose.