This is the wheel of dreams
which is carried on their voices,
By means of which their voices turn
and center upon being.
It encircles the First World,
This powerful wheel.
They shape their songs upon the wheel,
and spin the names of the earth and sky,
The aboriginal names,
They are old men or men
who are withering in their voices,
and they carry the wheel among the camps,
Saying: Come, come,
Let us tell the old stories,
let us sing the sacred songs.