Tonight, the silvery dance will end.
Some of the dance troops will retire, while the others will keep the stage alive.
The curtain will be drawn on the shimmering cloud, and the sun will retire home for another night.
Tonight, the chickens will roost,
The piper will retire and the farmer will hang his hoe.
Tomorrow! A new sun will set.
The birds will come out to play.
The fishes will give their highest dive, and the hyenas will laugh.
The market woman will pick her basket,
She will fill them with fruits and vegetables.
The children will cackle as they roll on the sandy beach.
Tomorrow! The piper will pick up his flute again and blow his heart out.
The drummer will grab his bà tá, and make rhythm to his creator.
The dancer will pick his step and wriggle to his content; even far into eternity.
For the sun is up and the land is evergreen.
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