Chaps that slap the saddle keep time to
The rhythm of hoof beats
Low cattle calls
Rumble like thunder
From the throats of cowboys
And blend with
The moans of the herd
In the foggy down
The shadows of
Horse and man and cattle
Creep across the plain like ghosts
But don't rub yer eyes
To clear the vision
In a blink
They are gone
And all that is left
Is the echo
Of man and beast
And a dust devil
Kicking up the dirt...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem