Winning, winning, like the bing, searching for wing, flying like a bee, for all to see, high to die for the all seeing eye, shooting for the gold, with the 3pter to be told, coutdown to down town, final seconds to engage the oppistion just enrage in many pages, of victory to the angst of defeat, glad but with the oppents to be sad, for the bulls just had the man
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem