Toktarali Tangharik

From the gray haze, a neighing sound

Echoes through the misty ground

With hoofbeats that shake the earth

 And stir the heart, the wind's rebirth

In the empty steppe, with sticks and hooks,

We search for them, the nomad's steeds

Dark, bay, or gray, we cannot know,

Their coats' true colors in time's flow

Like us, they fade beneath the sun, 

Swallowed by time and road's long run

Their mane and tail, a flowing stream,

In dreams alone, their presence seems.

As twilight yawns, history's might 

Erases traces of their flight

I'd ride them through the steppe's embrace, 

But poets' dreams are fleeting space

In silence now, my soul I mend, 

With tulips of longing, I transcend

Wormwood blooms, time's spring has come

Yet still, my heart feels empty, numb

In twilight's embrace, I long to neigh, 

But where, oh where, have horses strayed?