Part I
1999
Thunder rolls across the lone prairie
As a sea of brown gallops across the land
The thousands of these great and mighty behemoths
Are now, soon to this sad day, destined to be no more
None shall roam the once untamed grasslands anymore
Killed senselessly for their hides and for sport
And these magnificent gentle giants shall but be a memory.
Part II
2006
Beautiful are the natives, whom thunder upon the lonesome prairie
Undaunted by the numerous obstacles that meet their heavy path
Fate has thus dealt them a frightening hand to their lively freedom
Few have they become because of the white man's foolish pride
Arrogance seeded their dark hearts as they slaughter the hundreds
Lamentations are uttered by the original American nation to no avail
Only to fall upon the trampled grass which these blessed giants existed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem