But we are savages. The white man s dreams are hidden from us. Your religion was written on tablets of stone, ours on our hearts. Day and night cannot dwell together. His brave warriors will be with us, a bristling wall of strength.
Today is fair.
Tomorrow may be overcast with clouds. My words are like the stars that never change. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with returning hosts that once filled and still love this beautiful land. The white man will never be alone. Youth is impulsive.