I saw horses walk from the sea,
Dripping wet, tossing green foam,
Bearing gifts in their long, golden eyes.
Lips curled 'round an invisible bit,
Manes cropped and nostrils flaring...
Such beauties pranced
Straight out of Constantinople,
Thro' seven centuries of war,
To stand on Forty-Second Street,
Bearing their proud Imperial Guard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem