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Hope or despair?
It is November,
clamness rules.
After an arduous chase,
the black horse eventually stops.
Still, only its shadow follows behind.
The gigantic tree,
acting like a shadowy shelter,
the black horse is standing underneath,
weeping.
The wind is blowing heavily,
scourging the black horse cruelly,
tormenting it toughly,
a dire punishment.
A precipice is nearby,
the black horse is gawking at the edge of it,
without closing its eyes for a night,
a desperate look.
The sun is rising very slowly,
coming up over the horizon,
shaking out light to the cloudless sky gradually,
the pale white and the deep blue combine and the clouds turn blue.
Leaves on the trees sparkle,
down below a flower shines,
eyes of beasts glitter,
neigh of the black horse breaks out.
The world emerges from darkness,
every cloud has a silver lining,
even a ray of hope,
come on, don't give up.
(18th of August,2004)
poem
by
Trino Chan
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