quick feet in a sack wiggling
waiting for exact to take-off
which go around tree & back
good forty yards sack race
feeling of winning enhance
your feelings to pursue hard
twenty feet are line-up to start
went like fireball unstoppable
dust chasing their sacksteps
some tumble, some lost astride
breathless watching, neck to neck
sudden push got that extra yard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem