נפתלי פרימור, שירתי

The falling waters over the stones
The boiling and steaming underground rivers
The running herds of the bully bison
The bald eagle that slides over the darken water
They all are calling:
Shoshone.**
I asked the redskin man for his permission
To pick up the many strawberries
That grow here everywhere
A windy voice comes out
And I heard the words:
You may have
In between the rocky pillars
A stony voice comes to my ears
Is it a Tukuaduka hunter or a mountain sheep?
It is gracefully climbing over a steep ridge
Within a moment
It has disappeared into the darkness
Of a narrow cliff
I shall be waiting for both of them to be here.

*literally the "sheepeater", a name of the Shoshon Indians of the Yellowstone. The skilled hunters capable of hunting down of the wild mountain sheep.
** In the wake of the Bear River Massacre, Idaho 1863, the Shoshone Chief Pocatello was convinced that the Shoshone could no longer fight the U.S.Army. In exchange for a peace treaty with the U.S.Government, the Shoshons surrendered most of their land and were relocated into several agreed reservations. Some of them in the distant Nevada Desert. Shortly thereafter, in 1872, for the benefit of all Americans and through the undertakings of the U.S. Congress and a U.S.Presidential grant, the Yellowstone National Park was established.