Classic Poem

Song for Medicine Hunting — Rarely for the Metai

I wished to be born, I was born, and after I was born I made all spirits.
I created the spirits.
He sat down Na-na-bush; his fire burns forever.
Notwithstanding you speak evil of me, from above are my friends, my friends.
I can use many kinds of wood to make a bear unable to walk.
Of you I think, that you use the We-nis-ze-bug-gone, I think this of you.
That which I take is blood, that which I take.
Now I have something to eat.
I cover my head, sitting down to sleep, ye spirits.
I fill my kettle for the spirit.
Long ago, in the old time, since I laid myself down, ye are spirits.
I open you for a bear, I open you.
That is a Spirit which comes both from above and below.
I am he that giveth success, because all spirits help me.
The feather, the feather; it is the thing, the feather.
Who is a spirit? He that walketh with the serpent, walking on the ground; he is a spirit.
Now they will eat something, my women; now I tell them they will eat.
This yellow ochre, I will try it.
Now I wish to try my bird; sometimes I used to try, and sometimes it used to be something.
I can kill any animal, because the loud-speaking thunder helps me; I can kill any animal.
I take a bear, his heart I take.
A rattle snake makes a noise on the poles of my lodge; he makes a noise.
To a Shawnee, the four sticks used in this song belonged. When struck together they were heard all over the country.
I come up from below; I come down from above; I see the spirit; I see beavers.
I can make an east wind come and pass over the ground.
Thus have I sat down, and the earth above and below has listened to me sitting here.
I make to crawl, a bear, I make to crawl.