Tonight you ride your horse
in a drenched forest,
nod to sleep,
And perhaps think about me, and smile.
And maybe,
Maybe, some day, you shall come back,
and take a walk with me, some evening,
and no one will speak a word of worry,
of worry, tenderness, or night,
or love.
As summer lightning delivers
a shy cool past
that will never come back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem