Цвета ветра

You think I'm an ignorant savage
and you've been so many places
I guess it must be so, but still I can not see
If the savage one is me
How can there be so much that you don't know

You think you own whatever land you land on
the earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know every rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name

You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You learn things you never knew
You never knew

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?
or ask the grinning bobcat why he grinned
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?
Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?
 [bad word] the hidden pinetrails of the [bad word] taste the sun-sweet berries of the [bad word] roll in all the riches all around you
And for once never wonder what they're worth

The rainstorm and the rivers are my brothers
And the heron and the otter are my friends
And we are all connected to each other
In a circle in a hoop that never ends

How high does the sycamore grow
If you cut it down, then you'll never know

And you'll never hear the wolf cry
To the blue corn moon
For whether we are white or copper-skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains
Need to paint with all the colours of the wind
You can own the Earth and still all you'll own is earth
Until you can paint with all the colours of the wind