But when the last man red skin has disappeared of this earth and their memories only are like the shade of a cloud on the prairie, still he will be alive the spirit of my ancestors in these shores and these forests. Because they loved this earth as new born she loves barking of the heart of his mother. But, why I have to lament me by the decline of my town? The towns are formed by men, not on the other thing. And the men are born and die like the waves of the sea. The white man, whose God walks and speaks with him of friend to friend, cannot even elude that common destiny. Perhaps we are really brother. A thing yes we know, that perhaps the white man discovers someday that your God and ours is the same Great Spirit.
Perhaps you think that you own, like you try to own our country, but that to him you cannot obtain it. It is the God of all the men, as much of the red skins as of the targets. This earth is to them precious, and to damage the Earth means to despeciar to its Creator. Perhaps I say to you that also the targets you will disappear, before the other races. You continue soiling your I milk and one night you will die asphyxiated by your own excrements.
We will meditate your supply to buy our earth, because we know that if we did not accept the white man comes surely with arms and it will expel to us. Because the white man, who holds the power momentarily, thinks that already it is God, to that belongs the world. If we yield our earth as much to you amadla as loved we it, preocuparos by her as much as we worried, you maintain their memory as he is when take you them. And with all your forces, your spirit and your heart to conserve it for your children and amadla as to the Great we love us spirit all. Then although we are wild we know a thing: our God is your God. This earth is to him sagrada. The white man cannot even elude this common destiny. Perhaps we are even brother. Who knows! Great Seatlle Head.