Thursday, September 17, 2009


The horse’s head on the ovoo turns white,
turns really white,
like nothing’s happened in the world….
Like finding peace,
like the stillness of stallions,
the horse’s head turns white.
This divine creature
threw back his head.
This dumb creature
forgot to neigh.
Mark his golden skull with the words:“Gone away.”
A spring haze hangs like washing.
He’s jogging, whinnying, his mind’s gone this way,
his raging pounding pounding
heart’s gone that way.
The world’s left him
Just like it’s left me,
left me….
Just as my golden conscience,
which inscribed this destiny of mine,
goes this way.
Just as my tender heart,
which pursued that gentle love of mine,
has left me behind, so
the one I loved goes that way,
scattering my songs and my tears.
The tips of the grasses,
brown swaying on my homeland steppe,
whistle their agitation,
that the one who’s passed is forgotten,
poor thing….
The horse’s head upon the ovoo, and
the moon turns white over the lonely hills.

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