there were great herds
of buffalo then...
racing wildly across
the plains,
bodies painted,
ponies nostrils flared,
bow and arrow ready...
to the victor
the spoils...
a prayer of gratitude
to the spirit
of the beast....
meat for the long winter...
maybe even a taste
of raw liver...
there were great herds
of buffalo then...
when the people
of the earth
were free!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
written in memory of Delaney Quiver, a friend.