In the short, blue twilight
I took a small walk
The ground was red, burst-dry
The sky was thin and terribly high
and blue thistles stiff and whimsical
rustled in a rage and unwillingly
Quietly grazing next to a grey rock
suddenly I saw on high legs
a young donkey; his ears seemed
transparent, his visage was proud.
His long, amber eyes blinked
like water, earnest and considered
and impartial was his gaze
And after a short, fierce shock
I froze in amazement.
Or could it have been esteem
for this fair, sound animal,
with which I proceeded ?
A painful memory:
I used to be like this,
That soundness and gentleness,
Light earnest and dreaminess
O' could I once more regain that,
could I once more start over.
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