Classic Poem

A-zláy, A-zláy, you who have clambered the mountains, A-zláy,
Where is the little juniper growing up green?
Over the line of blue mesas,
Out of the yellow edges of dawn
Come on the curled-up toe of your moccasins, A-zláy.

A-zláy, you who have wandered the hill-trails, A-zláy,
Where does the little fawn come down from the rim?
Over the band of red mesas,
The turquoise hollow of noon
Touch with the softness of white corn-tassels, A-zláy.

A-zláy, you who have followed the canyons, A-zláy,
Where does the he-bear come at evening to drink?
Over the wall of black mesas,
Into the velvet of night
Go, stepping soft in your star-buttoned moccasins, A-zláy.