One grows to love the smell of horses 
and urine-soaked hay 
With the Chesapeake behind it…dung in the stables
Stars in the pasture… leather 
and spring rain
Your whole body slips 
into the confluence 
Of hoof and sail, withers tremble
Easy Clifford plods paths of sojas 
and boysenberry
Trail dust settles softly 
on the waters of the brain                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem