The horses of light are the beds of humanity,
They shine and record the ideas of men who bleed,
Like the hissing of snakes and the prancing of ponies.
Widows have been collapsed by the trains
Rushing past to ambush directly the brothers.
The horses win shunning tonsils,
Winners of the cohorts of men who ride
Like bones and swamps of them.
The caverns of light are full of nails,
Dead souls travel inside the caverns of death;
The light of the horses is polite returning to the end,
It entices the asking people to proudly natter,
The light of the horses spills and rises forwardly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The horses of light are beds of humanity, the light of horses is polite returning to the end. Beautifully penned poem ever composed. Lovely one.