I have kept this fallow field
When I must be a horseman,
A keeper of wills and minds
With no shadows, no designs.
Their hooves are planted
In the field so young in taste.
A fool clasps its mind
When evil shadows must be;
It must be the stallions
That bring joy to the very heart.
I am burdened by the boaster
Of this fallow field.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem