Wild Horses (Story)

I remember as a kid
The prairie grass
Blowing in the wind,
The sunset in my eyes,
The thunder in the distance,
And the wild horses
dancing one last time
In the fields below.

I asked my grandpa,
"Why does Rose have to go?"
You can see the sadness in his eyes
You can feel the old man broken

"All the horses have to go on home."

That was 19 years ago
I didn't understand.
I thought this was her home.
He couldn't tell me before
Like I can't tell my niece now,
These are government lands
They don't want to feed
The horses anymore

I looked down at her,
The only flower left
In this wasteland.
She must have
Saw me utterly sad...

I'm a broken man and I said
in our native tongue,

"There are no more wild horses.
They all went on home."

Enagnala sunkawakhan yukhanpi
Ehanni oyate nipi 
k' un hehan cha lehechetu skhe

Thunkasila, namakih' un wo
ochanku kinmakíyuthanin ye.
Paha ska kin hel akanl emaunpa po,
Sunkawakhan mithawa kin glogla yo.

Sungwathogla mithawa Rose
Anpetu kin le níciyuwaste Thunkasila kte.