Clawing up from a struggle,
And snuggled once on that horse...
With a pride and a grin,
One wore when one rode in then...
Isn't easy these days,
To mount back on...
And giddy-up to ride away again.
No.
Some chose to get off their high horses,
To deepen their debts.
With a credit now...
Needing to be repaid with a lot of regret.
And...
Those middle class days feasted,
Now have gone.
Unbelieving that a riding on a high horse...
And the barn it was kept,
Has vanished to be either auctioned or pawned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem