Four plus hours through the beauty of Arizona, mountains, deserts,
farms full of cotton fields and corn, boulders everywhere when
coming to the Dragoon Mountains where Indians hid out in the past.
Chiraquoa Indian Reservation, Apache's old haunts, valleys, canyons,
a vast land of ancient history of the Old Wild West, seeing the
wonder of nature everywhere I look.
Totally awe-inspiring, an atmosphere that's been here for decades,
and centuries, thinking barely anyone has ever set foot on most of
the mountainous landscapes that we're traveling through.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem