Down the streets goes the mare,
all her master's burdens she does bare,
but never once has she dispaired,
as the wind blows through her hair,
she never beleaved that her master would dare,
take her to the slavedriver's lair,
her master told her she would receive loving care,
woe, oh woe to the mare.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem