Elkhorn Creek's misty hand spreads out across the verdant fields of Greentree like a ghostly mother tucking her children to bed in the moonlight
Trees, to old to mention, and impossibly health, reign over the rolling landscape, like towers of time, rooted in the soil of Eden
Surrounded by the glory of nature, tended by the hands of man, the stars truly shine overhead at night, adorning this already precious jewel
The Immortals who sprang from this nursery, now rest with honor, as testaments of man, of horse, and nature, each an equal contributor when dreams spring to life, as lives are sown into legend
And when the dream is over, if they are luckier still, they'll lay neath the misty blanket, with stars as their crown, under a full moon over Greentree
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem