Will you talk to your Elders for me?
As you know, I'm too young for the Council.
Will you tell how her glances draw me
as a houseless soul to an angel?

She is younger than time can decree,
she'll be young when the sun gutters cold.
And the Council were young once like me
else they could not have journeyed so old.

Tell them this and request their pardon
and, as sure as the harvest must rise,
I will make of your sands a garden
that will always rise up to the skies.

And if some son of yours comes to me
and if I see his eye wide with life,
I'll be proud that his father knew me
and I'll see to it he gets his wife.

So converse with your Elders for me
and if favour proceeds from their laws,
then no hawk's hand of hate will claw me
and your tribe shall be safe from my claws.