I race, but I race in other fashion
On the dew, on puddles, on the grass
Ambling is that how they call my motion,
That means I race as no any horse.

But my rider’s always on my chine,
Lashing by his spurs my abdomen.
I agree to run with herd of mine,
But without the saddle and the rein.

If a dagger is not free from scabbard,
Less than needle it is dangerous.
Here I am hoppled so and saddled.
Bridle-bit is tearing my jaws.

They have laid injuries on my chine.
I quake near water from the strain.
I agree to run with herd of mine,
But without the saddle and the rein.

I’m today about to be striving
I’m a favorite now on this track!
I am sure: all stake onto my winning,
But not I, jock wheezes on my back.

Grinning are spectators in first lines.
Jock’s spurs dig in me with acute pane.
I agree to run with herd of mine.
But without the saddle and the rein.

Having nursed the malice on each other,
On the start line steeds are dancing, mad
With the anger, with the rage, with ardor!
Splatter of the foam they all shed!

Art of riding my jock knows fine.
In the tribunes his price does not wane.
Oh, how would I run with herd of mine,
But without the saddle and the rein.

Nay, the hills will never be of gold stuff!
I the last shall cross the finish goal!
I to him will have remembered spurs tough!
Hobbling I’ll be running behind all!

Sounds bell! The jockey on my chine
Laughs foretasting dough he shall gain.
Oh, how would I run with herd of mine,
But without the saddle and the rein.

What’s with me? How dare I to run faster?
To my foe submit I like a foal!
Of myself I’m now not the master!
I can’t help to be first at the goal!

Of all deeds what have been left to me?
It’s to chuck my jockey from my chine,
And to run without my enemy
As if I was in the herd of mine!

I have come! Behind he’s plodding stumbling
On the dew, on puddles, on the sod.
For the first time I was not the ambler!
I have strived for winning as the lot.