I run, but to run differently Im fated Over rocks, and puddles, and the dew. They say "hes a pacer, different-gaited" That means, runs differently than others do.
               
But by my rider I am always spurred As he beats me with his heels again. I would gladly gallop in the herd But not under saddle, without rein. Today Im in the starting gate for racing - Im the favourite again, I see. Everyone puts their bets on the pacer But not I, my jockey gasps on me. A master of riding, he is called, And the stands all clap for him again. I would gladly gallop in the herd But not under saddle, without rein.
               
No, the prizes wont be gold and dashing: I intend to cross the finish last. Ill remind my rider of that lashing - I will balk when he wants to go fast!         What am I doing? How do I dare? I assist my enemy at his worst But my heart for my head doesnt care And wont let me come any place but first. What, then, is there to be done? Pitch my rider from me, neighing grim, And as if in the herd, here I will run Under saddle, with rein - but without him! I came in, and in the back hes waiting Plodding over puddles and the dew... For the first time, I wasnt different-gaited - I wanted to win, like they all do!
Tamara Vardomskaya. Translation, ?