The moon glistens as I wait in anticipation,
For Mamao has brought out her stool tonight,
We sit in a circle nobody in conversation,
For now she shall speak her words so wise and bright.
We listen; us children, to her magical words,
Miss a word and surely you shall be lost,
For long she speaks without a pause,
The knowledge of our tribe, she speaks to us thus.
The toad does not run during the day for no reason,
Something has disturbed it out of the sand,
The pest that devours the eggplant lies in its bosom,
For within lies the problem at hand.
What else Mamao said, I shall tell you someday,
For I must sleep, it is the end of the day.