The old Siset talked to me
on the porch during dawn
while we waited for the sun
and watched the carts passing by.
Siset, don't you see the stake
to which we are all tied?
If we can not separate us from it,
then we can never walk!
If we all pull, it will fall
and it will not endure for long,
it is sure that it falls, falls, falls,
it should already be well rotten.
If you pull hard here,
and I pull hard there,
it is sure that it falls, falls, falls,
and we can liberate ourselves.
But, Siset, so much time has passed,
the hands are being flayed,
and when my strength goes away,
it will be wider and bigger.
I very well know that it is rotten,
but it is just, Siset, that it weighs so much
so that sometimes my strength leaves me.1
Tell me your song again.
If we all pull, it will fall
and it will not endure for long,
it is sure that it falls, falls, falls,
it should already be well rotten.
If you pull hard here,
and I pull hard there,
it is sure that it falls, falls, falls,
and we can liberate ourselves.
The old Siset now said nothing.
A bad wind came about
- he knows towards where -
and I went under the porch.
And while the new lads passed by,
I stretched my throat to sing
the last song of Siset,
the last that he taught me.
If we all pull, it will fall
and it will not endure for long,
it is sure that it falls, falls, falls,
it should already be well rotten.
If you pull hard here,
and I pull hard there,
it is sure that it falls, falls, falls,
and we can liberate ourselves.
1. lit. forgets me