OCR Text |
Show Kleeka went home. His mother asked, "Where i s the song of the bird, the song of the Cicada, the words your uncle sings?" "Today, I t r i e d to sing, but no echo came from the c l i f f , " he said, his voice t r a i l i n g away. n}tiy son," she said, "Sing and your trouble will go!" But there was no b i r d song, no song of laughter. Kleeka lay sleepless on his goatskin cover. When the light of day came he wakened his mother sleeping across tha hogan. "They will cut the willow before i t i s ready!" he said, his voice r i s i n g. She raised up from her sleep and said, "Make strong your f l u t e ." As he went to the spring with the goats he remembered the days when he sang. The b i r d came. He forced a song from his t h r o a t . The echo came back as one who was afraid. The next day a dove came. Who-oo, i t sang, Who-oo mocked Kleeka. A song of sadness came back from the cliff. Tha song of the dove i s easy thought Kleeka. He sang i t to his mother when he got home. She listened quietly while she was weaving. "The song i s sad, but very beautiful," she said, "Tomorrow the song will be bright, naybs." |