From the town torn away, I crawled back to Abisko.
Great Mother calls her chant of our ancestors, Aurora's roaring or guovssahas.
The lights we used to hear as children when we ran through the forests while the winds of time barked in silence.
When Aurora blazed, she took me down the river to respect the fox fire.
We sent sparks to guide the souls of the dead home while you kissed my forehead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem