Father speaks well-intentionedly
My son, you should come closer to me. You have decided that you will leave your family’s (/ tribe’s) homeland and go to the mountain. I begin to think that, perhaps, someone should give you advice for your travels (lit., should talk to you, intending to have your travels go well) until you depart, and I volunteer to do so.
Here’s the advice:
If you encounter a big people-eating cat, it may frighten your horse, but not kill it. You must not tell it my advice. It will say to you that it intends to destroy every piece of you.
If you see some fruits, in the place where the big cat is hiding (lit. trying to go unseen) in order to damage you, you must bear this in mind (lit., all your actions must reflect your having internalized this): these fruits are not red, like normal ones are; these fruits are just as bright as the moon, though normal ones are less bright. Throughout your journey, you absolutely must arrange that the fruits never come in contact with your horse. These fruits truly do cause pain and death.
Some among us often say that the fruits are sweet, because they prevent people from doing harm to us.
This is the other thing you must bear in mind: if you stay nearby the fruits throughout your journey, the big cat will not attack you, and you will not be dead when you leave the mountains. You will know for sure that our proverb (from the last paragraph) applies to you too.
Oh, by the way, the goat is weeping, because your horse will be departing along with you.