Every night
a whisper comes
and my heart beats
fast
faster than the hoofs
of galloping wild horses
on an old road
to the farm
of a medicine man
where leaves
are warmed by oils
and eggs stand
on their steepest end
like needles in protest
An old road paved
with jasmines
where lovers stroll
in the moonlight
and the angel of death
drink the blood
of wild horses crossing
and drunken men toasting
to life
the limbs of jasmines lay broken
flowers on their last breath
and the horses
and the trees shiver
for their fate
the road is hungry
it has eaten the sidewalk
as it was thirsty
it sucked the blood
of young children
and old women
just passing by
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
...the angel of death drink the blood of wild horses crossing and drunken men... interesting write, Virginia. Thanks for sharing greetings from Italy