Mama strikes me and I draw a breath and cry.
 Above me a cloud softly tumbles through the sky;
 I am glad to be alive.

 It is me seventh day, I taste the hunger and I cry;
 my brother and sister cling to Mama's side.
 She squeezes her breast, but it has nothing to provide;
 someone weeps, I fall asleep.

 It is twenty days today, Mama does not hold me anymore;
 I open my mouth but I am too weak to cry.
 Above me a bird slowly crawls across the sky;
 why is there nothing now to do but die