A Horse Named Choice Poem by Georgi Todorov

Hеllo, white horse named Choice,
Don't search for an enemy in me. Inversely -
I've come to present my entire life to you, boy!
So easily I will not let you go.
That natural arrogance of yours
is not going to discourage me.

Don't run, white horse named Choice,
through hills in their countless rows
in search of a meadow promised to you by no one,
and never to be found. Believe me -
Your sacred goals will never be
achieved through impertinence.

Be still, white horse, don't move,
I'm so damn tired to chase you,
too weak to keep your pace, dude!
With no wings to match your hooves,
No engine to force. No verve to try
mitigate your attitude.

Relax, white horse, calm down
no point in sustaining your hectic run.
Your soul is no more than just a loaded gun
the revolver slowly spinning around,
as slowly as the fucking world -
around and around and around.