Текст песни The Heart Of The Appaloosa (Fred Small) с переводом

From the land of shooting waters to the peaks of the Coeur d’Alene

Thimbleberries in the forest, elk grazing on the plain

The People of the Coyote made their camp along the streams

Of the green Wallowa Valley when fences had no name

And they bred a strain of horses, the treasure of the tribe

Who could toe-dance on a ridge or gallop up a mountainside

Who could haul the hunter’s burden, turn a buffalo stampede

The horse that wore the spotted coat was born with matchless speed

Thunder Rolling in the Mountains

Lead the People across the Great Divide

There’s blood on the snow in the hills of Idaho

But the heart of the Appaloosa never died

In the winter came the crowned ones near frozen in the cold

Bringing firearms and spyglasses and a book that saves the soul

The people gave them welcome, nursed them till their strength returned

And studied the talking paper, its mysteries to learn

In the shadow of the mission sprang up farms and squatter towns

The plain was lined with fences, the plow blade split the ground

In the shallows of the Clearwater gold glittered in the pan

And the word would come from Washington: remove the Indian

The chief spoke to the People in his anger and his pain

«I am no more Chief Joseph. Rolling Thunder is my name

They condemn us to a wasteland of barren soil and stone

We shall fight them if we must, but we will find another home.»

They fled into the Bitterroot, an army at their heels

They fought at White Bird Canyon, they fought at Misery Hill

Till the colonel saw his strategy and sent the order down

To kill the Appaloosa wherever it be found

Twelve hundred miles retreating, three times over the Divide

The horse their only safety, their only ally

Three thousand Appaloosas perishod with the tribe

The people and the horses dying side by side

Thunder Rolling in the Mountains said, «my heart is sick and sad

Our children now are freezing. The old chiefs are dead

The hunger take our spirit. Our wounds are deep and sore

From where the sun now stands I shall fight no more.»

They were sent to Oklahoma, malaria ran rife

But more died of broken hearts far from the land that gave them life

And the man once called Joseph at death was heard to say

«We have given up our horses. They have gone away.»

But sometimes without warning from a dull domestic herd

A spotted horse of spirit wondrous will emerge

Strong it is and fearless and nimble on a hill

Listening for thunder, the Appaloosa’s living still

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