To lean forward in the saddle,
the reins slackened for a while,
to lean forward towards its ear,
its ear concerned with more immediate things,
across the muscled, tendoned neck
so much more a neck than human neck
with the urge to whisper some unformulated words
arising beyond a language, in the heart,
concerning some so briefly,
so deeply now perceived
of some equality hidden in humility
holding horse and rider
in some ancient bond of trust,
perhaps of love.
Because I have ridden for years, I know that the last two lines of this poem...in some ancient bond of trust, perhaps of love....is the perfect description of that bond. For a puny human to control the might that a horse is, there must be that bond, and you have hit it perfectly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are probably now better than John Kay at writing these sorts of poems, Michael. It is a very touching piece but the choice of the word 'perhaps' ensures it doesn't become Disneyfied. Marvellous.