That there should be no tracks, they’ve swept the surface clean.
Now scold me, shame me, and you might try to reason!
Horizon is my finish, my ribbon’s the earth’s rim,
I have to be the first on the horizon!

Not everyone approved the wager’s terms and code,
But they shook hands, reluctantly and coldly.
The sole condition is that I get on the road,
And drive, ignoring turns, along this roadway.

I’m winding miles on my propeller shaft,
I’m parallel with cables that I’ve passed.
But every now and then I see a shadow:
A jet black cat or someone black and shallow.

I know there will be spokes put often in my wheels,
And I’m aware of where and how I will be swindled.
I know where I’ll be stopped from running, by all means,
And where a cord across the road is tethered.

The pedal to the floor. When moving at these speeds
A grain of sand is like a bullet striking.
And I would squeeze the wheel till cramping in the wrists -
To be on time before the bolts are tightened!

I’m winding miles on my propeller shaft,
I’m vertical with cables that I’ve passed.
They’re tightening the nuts. Go hell for leather!
Or they’ll pull up the cord, right where the neck is.

The asphalt roadway melts, the rubber treads are stressed,
My left side beats with all-consuming keenness.
I’m tearing the strung cord with nothing but my chest.
I am alive! You can take off black ribbons!

But those who tried their best to force this solemn bet
Are just unscrupulous in strifes and calculations.
I’m drunk with the excitement, but to my regret,
I’m braking hard in slippery locations!

I’m winding miles on my propeller shaft,
In spite of every cable that I’ve passed.
You just console the losers I’m despising,
When I come into view on the horizon!

My finish, the horizon, is still quite far from me.
I did not tear the ribbon, but the cord is over.
The cable has not crossed my upper vertebrae,
But there are gunshots fired from the covert.

It’s not that I’ve embraced the rubles in this race,
For I’ve been asked: "Don’t miss the fleeting moment!
Is there a threshold where the Earth meets space?
And is it true horizons can be broaden?"

I’m winding miles on my propeller shaft,
And I won’t let them shoot my tires like that.
But I can’t stop. The brakes are failing. Coda!
I’m passing the horizon in a moment!