The cavemen here, the cavemen there
Evolved east, evolved north and everywhere
We, receving the language gift from the ancient past
Will it live? Will it last?

Letting a language die is like denying the discovery,
Denying the existence of the cavemen's history
Letting a language live is accepting the culture,
Of the moment's old, to the distant future

It is the keepsake from the ancestor days,
It's like a dying cyclamen on a winter's eve,
For it deserves to witness the bright summer rays,
It deserves to survive, it deserves to live,

Years passes by slowly, the speakers are decreasing
But even if the elderly dies, not the language
It shall be pass down to generations, and shall be said-
The cavemen used it before, the citymen speaks it more!