On the riverbank
In deep grass
Under the large shade of the willow
Sleeps a white horse.

The forefathers' silver scythes have rung out.
The wooden carts have rattled away on the highways
Like a June thunderstorm.
The wells and the sagebrush have dried out.
The fires of the night herdsmen have gone out.

On the riverbank
In deep grass
Under the large shade of the willow
Sleeps a white horse.