How it would be if a dialect poem was translatable

You used to put the shot

You used to put the shot
you used to put the shot on a meadow
and I used to stand still, staring at you
you used to be wrapped up in that
you used to move sooo slowly
like in slow motion
when the shot touched the ground
I used to run with joy to get it
then suddenly
the wind blew
and the shot...

... the shot flew you away
it flew you high
high away
I was waiting there
with my nose in the air
I was waiting there
I'm still waiting right now
I'm always there.

Here is the original text.