Riding, listening to the horse's hooves galloping into
the night, treasures of evening being held out of reach
by stars above us.
Holding secrets of life, closely guarding them so we
never get to know them, their precious images staying
always out of reach.
Nothing to take them away, stretching across the milky
way, galloping along the dusty trails, filling them with
hoof prints as they leave their marks above in the sky.
There they will remain so no one will ever be able to
follow them to their source, an everlasting mystery to
be beyond us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem