Oh, ye prairies of South Dakota,
Wild, and great, and weary,
Remind me of the olden days,
When your grass was taller and greener.
When hoards of buffalos would run
And build the prairies highways.
When wilder people and their horses
Would glee from seeing badlands.
You changed a lot, my dear, and I
Have never even seen you
Back in those days when you’re a freer,
And willing to continue
To sprout between civilisation
And shelter a wild heart,
When you would feed those who’d been late
Somewhat, but never truant.
I ask from you: be once again
A smiling windy face,
Give freedom to your fellow men
Who winds of life embrace.
Let lofty thoughts in thunderstorms
Along your streams be grazing,
I beg you, keep your peace and pace
But never, please, be lazy!
Oh, ye prairies of South Dakota
© Copyright: Евтушенко Богдан Витальевич, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125021901836
Свидетельство о публикации №125021901836
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