dependable
gray
heavy-limbed
coarse-maned
I take a comb
to
your stolidity
and
stroke
the blaze
between your steady eyes...
you look neither left nor right...
I have woven a blanket
to keep the cold from you....
I have oats and apples in my pockets,
dear warrior-laborer of unremitting grace...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank goodness for a glint of gold among the awful dross