The dawn was arising,
as my toes gently graced the land
which the buffalo grazed.
The shade of the tall trees
Leaves
Both a manufactured wind and
A Promise of a new voice.
The dawn was arising,
The sun, at its mightiest,
Fought with fatigue as the brothers
battled
Broken promises
My toes, trembled on an earthquake
One foot away from the other
Rattled
They were to begin the first steps
With new shoes and new souls
The sun, at its mightiest,
The horns, awaken my tired eyes
As my toes concentrated on the cement,
Which the Mustangs traveled.
The shade of the tinted towers
Made
Both a fractured wind, and
A myth of those who dared,
A promise that behind this haze
The same sun was still there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem