My history beckons like the dry town of Prairies.
Cute and fierce, fearless and enslavement
As the likeness on the Platte: The Powder, the Niobrara,
The Tongue, the Snakes, and the Yellowstone
Who, as an American buffalo, strange moonlight,
Explode with gigantic waves!
My history beckons like a halfway
Body of Missouri River and the Frockless,
Along the Paha-Sapa and the Black Hills
Cemented by the Sioux’s bones
Under such delighted night of long dance and tales!
My history beckons, oh powerless!
As the magic, mightily sport beyond the thunderbirds
Of the clean range of souls and hearts
As the unimaginable size of American bison!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem