ninitâhtâmon kititwêwiniwâwa ~ I Borrow Your Words

môya ninôhtê-wanitôtên ispîhk nêhiyawascikêyâni

ahpô nêhiyawêyâni. ninitawêyihtên

ka-nisitohtâtakok kinêhiyawîhtwâwiniwâwa

kipîkiskwêwiniwâwa.

I mean no wrong in writing

or speaking your language. I mean

to understand you on your terms,

in your words.

tahto itwêwin ê-miyonâkwahk

tâpiskôc anima kâ-yîkopîwik niwâsênamânihk,

anohc kâ-kîkisêpâyâk kîwêtinohk. tahto cahkasinahikan

tâpiskôc mîkwan isinâkwan wâsênamânihk.

Each word intricately embroidered

like the frost on my window this cold,

northern morning. Each inflection

a feathered essence on the glass.

tâpiskôc piyêsîs ê-nikamot itihtâkwan tahto itwêwin

mayaw kâ-kitoyêk. tânisi mâka

ka-kî-kaskihtâyân ka-otinamâsoyân

kikitohcikêwiniwâw?

Each word a songbird as soon

as you speak it. How

could I possibly steal

your music?

kitasotamâtitinâwâw:

môya niwî-otinamâson,

ôki mîkwanak wâsênamânihk ê-ayâcik,

kitiwêwiniwâwa.

I give you my word;

I won’t take what’s not mine.

These feathers on my window,

your words.

nika-nitohtên kikitohcikêwiniwâw, itwêwina

tâpiskôc piyêsîsak kâ-takahkihtâkosicik, ê-ohpahocik,

ê-nikamocik, onikamowiniwâwa ê-itwêmakaniyiki,

ê-kistêyihtâkosicik, ê-miyohtâkwaniyiki kâ-kîkisêpâyâyik.

I will listen for your music,

winged words of warblers, swooping

mightily in song, metres

of meaning, melodies of the morning.

I return your words, thanking

you for loaning them to me.

Thank you, my Cree friends, all my friends,

may we speak again.

kâwi kimiyitinâwâw kititwêwiniwâwa.

kinanâskomitinâwâw ê-awihiyêk.

ay-hay, nitôtêmitik nêhiyawak, kahkiyaw nitôtêmitik,

kîhtwâm ka-pîkiskwâtitonaw.