Two thousand fourteen is the year
Of the horse so say the Chinese,
But worldwide, fortunetellers gear
Up to sell humans on foresees.
Year start, the humans celebrate
Doing party stuff humans do,
Some really believing their fate
Rides with horses destiny to.
But humans and horses don't run
With the same purpose of the race.
Horses sense when a race is done,
While humans just aimlessly chase.
The one who could care less of course,
About this year of is the horse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem