Run wild stallion,
Young champion of the west,
The clouds part as you run past,
The thunder rumbles,
As your hooves strike the ground,
Running... Running,
With no regrets,
Have no fear you're faster than the rest,
Keep on going, don't ever look back,
Soon the race will be over,
And the prize will be won,
Led to the winners circle,
To have flowers draped upon your back,
The crowed is cheering,
You've Won, You've won
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem