CONCERN FOR HORSES
Hoofs sang,
Stamping the ground:
‘Grot,
Grand,
Groomed.’
Ice-Shod,
wind-hounded,
the street
skidded underfoot.
Suddenly,
a horse slumped on its croup
At once,
all those drifters flare-trousered
gathered in force.
Laughter
spilled and spouted:
‘A horse tumbled!
Look at the horse!’
The Kuznetsky rumbled
Only I
didn't join my voice in the sneering
I came nearer
and saw
the eye of the horse…
The street, tipped over,
continued on its course…
I came nearer
and saw
a large tear
roll down the muzzle
glisten
and disappear
And some sort of fellow animal pain
Splashed out of me
And flowed in whispering
“Horse, please…
Horse, listen,
why should you think you are any worse?
Darling,
we are all
essentially horses,
each and every one of us is something of a horse.’
Maybe
the old one
didn’t need my comfort,
maybe
my thought
was too effete,
only the horse tried hard,
neighed loud,
rose to its feet ,
and made a start.
Its tail playing
in glittering coat,
it trotted indomitably toward its stall.
It suddenly felt
it was still a coalt
and life was definitely worth living again.
1918
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