Classic Poem

I chase the kid into the pasture to graze at ease — the white kid that I bought for two silver coins, for two silver coins.
But the kid wanders off through the meadows and I follow. Through old forests, through vacant fields we stray the entire week, the entire week.
And on Friday, at noon, the kid halts of a sudden, and I see: a land, far away, outspread in blue light, in blue light.
A land — a land where hinds are hovering on every hillock, where the buffalo sleeps at the side of the weasel; a land — a land, tremulous, dreamy, that may vanish at the slightest touch.
The day is passing. The white kid lies at my side, and the kid too will vanish soon, even the kid that I bought for two silver coins, for two silver coins ...