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If I would give you my clear skies,
If I would give you all golden fields of grain,
Strong legs, a tireless hearth,
An ocean as still as a lake;
Would you still worship and pray,
And not forget my name: Umai?

Insted I'll give you my storm,
I'll give you my hail!
I will tear out trees,
Sweep up the seas
And destroy your fields.

And you'll reach for the sky.
But in this mud you'll die,
And you'll pray
When lightning illuminates your face.

If you are a sweet child,
Never screem to get yuor way,
I will forget you lying there.
I will sleep for a milion days
And not hear your prayers: Umai...

Insted I'll give you my storm,
I'll give you my hail!
I will tear out trees,
Sweep up the seas and destroy your fields.
You will pray: Umai!

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