Classic Poem

There was a time when the blue, blue sky was our niyaro (tribe)
Shining brightly like a huge, huge mirror.
There was a time when the high mountain fields were our niyaro
Shining with primordial solemnity and glory.
There was a time when the big rivers and vast sea were our niyaro
Washing away all that was unclean
There was a time when the gatherings of men were our niyaro
Listening to our ancestral myths and learning solemn adult ways.
There was a time when the mi-ilisin (harvest sacrifices) were our niyaro
Expressing our gratitude to Malatao (chief god of the Amis) and our ancestral spirits
Through dance and song.
But the moment the darkness covered the heaven and earth, when that foreign civilized power burst in accompanied by a high-class religion, our kakarayan (celestial body) and song vanished from the fields; no one listened to the ancestral myths after the men's house was toppled; every place was filled with the gas of the asshole government, and the solemn mi-ilisin were seen as superstition. Our fences, those with form and those without were broken down plaguing our fagcalay (beautiful) niyaro .
Young people, dance!
As noble as Ali mountain
Towering amid the clouds
Young people, charge yourselves!
Let that primordial energy fill you
Brave as a bear
Young people, bathe yourselves!
Clean as kakarayan
As benign as the sweet fragrance of the papaya
Young people, lie down
Let the Xiugumi and Puyuma rivers and the sea
Sing lively but softly as they always have, young people
Like the sound of nature
When the bali (wind) blows caressing the land
Young people, dance vigorously
Pounding and whirling
When the wakes (whirlwind) dances madly.