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Gilt turquoise and silver are in the place of thy rest. A brown robe, with threads of gold woven in patterns, hast thou gathered about thee, O Nathat-Ikanaie, "Tree-at-the-river."

As a rillet among the sedge are thy hands upon me; Thy fingers a frosted stream.

Thy maidens are white like pebbles; Their music about thee!

There is none like thee among the dancers; None with swift feet.