| | 17 | It was approaching morn, the moon was red, |
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| | 18 | your horse his head did pound, |
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| | 19 | and oddly enough, like I, |
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| | 20 | he had a belly wound, |
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| | 21 | and in his eyes I felt a chilling grief, |
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| | 22 | someone bewildered, asking for relief, |
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| | 23 | like wringing hands, I found. |
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| | 24 | |
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| | 25 | The meadows round and clover redolent |
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| | 26 | and blooming cress – |
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| | 27 | and he… a horse… what had he done? |
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| | 28 | his guts a mess, |
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| | 29 | someone had sat on him, and sits no more |
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| | 30 | and eyes so plead to know, to know implore |
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| | 31 | and thirst, without redress… |
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| | 32 | |
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| | 33 | Oh, his dry throat… If only he could neigh… |
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| | 34 | any idea why, why this?: |
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| | 35 | my golden sun, did he not love you nigh – |
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| | 36 | why forsake him… like this? |
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| | 37 | why will that horseshoe never ring again, |
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| | 38 | why are legs weighed with lead, the sky bloodstained – |
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| | 39 | ho, spin, world, spin, amiss… |
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| 18 | | 42 | it was a dream of dread, |
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| 19 | a dream to me revealed, | 43 | that beast’s eyes, they cried out |
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| 20 | | 44 | bulging out of its head, |
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| 21 | it was war and I lay there | 45 | they shouted at me, could I please explain, |
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| 22 | | 46 | why were we lying there, gut-torn, in pain – |
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| 23 | shot, on the battlefield; | 47 | what was I to have said…? |
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| 24 | | | |
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| 25 | and right there next to me lay, fallen, by my side, | | |
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| 26 | | | |
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| 27 | your horse, our deaths were set to coincide, | | |
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| 28 | | | |
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| 29 | so God had willed. | | |
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| 30 | | | |
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| 31 | | | |
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| 32 | | | |
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| 33 | It was approaching morn, the moon was red, | | |
|---|
| 34 | | | |
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| 35 | your horse his head did pound, | | |
|---|
| 36 | | | |
|---|
| 37 | and oddly enough, like I, | | |
|---|
| 38 | | | |
|---|
| 39 | he had a belly wound, | | |
|---|
| 40 | | | |
|---|
| 41 | and in his eyes I felt a chilling grief, | | |
|---|
| 42 | | | |
|---|
| 43 | someone bewildered, asking for relief, | | |
|---|
| 44 | | | |
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| 45 | like wringing hands, I found. | | |
|---|
| 46 | | | |
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| 47 | | | |
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| 48 | | | |
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| 49 | The meadows round and clover redolent | | |
|---|
| 50 | | | |
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| 51 | and blooming cress – | | |
|---|
| 52 | | | |
|---|
| 53 | and he… a horse… what had he done? | | |
|---|
| 54 | | | |
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| 55 | his guts a mess, | | |
|---|
| 56 | | | |
|---|
| 57 | someone had sat on him, and sits no more | | |
|---|
| 58 | | | |
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| 59 | and eyes so plead to know, to know implore | | |
|---|
| 60 | | | |
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| 61 | and thirst, without redress… | | |
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| 62 | | | |
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| 63 | | | |
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| 64 | | | |
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| 65 | Oh, his dry throat… If only he could neigh… | | |
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| 66 | | | |
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| 67 | any idea why, why this?: | | |
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| 68 | | | |
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| 69 | my golden sun, did he not love you nigh – | | |
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| 70 | | | |
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| 71 | why forsake him… like this? | | |
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| 72 | | | |
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| 73 | why will that horseshoe never ring again, | | |
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| 74 | | | |
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| 75 | why are legs weighed with lead, the sky bloodstained – | | |
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| 76 | | | |
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| 77 | ho, spin, world, spin, amiss… | | |
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| 78 | | | |
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| 79 | | | |
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