Blinkers on.
There are horses,
Mules.
Mulling over with mulish ness.
Shoes of steel,
Aimless on the savannah,
Grazing, chomping.
Thinking.
Dropping dung,
Fertilising the soil,
Giving back.
There are stallions,
With minds of their own.
Self imposed blinkers,
Filtering line of sight,
Unifying with one goal,
To race.
Breakneck, powered by
Thumping hearts,
Blood regurgitating,
Frothy with accomplishment,
Excelling in the art,
Of limited sight,
Focused on a single object,
No lust, no fuss,
Just pure victory.
Hardik Mahesh Vaidya
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem