His horse seems To be made of darkness. The night-drift carries its gallop. The shod hooves sparkle colluding with the grains of gold in the ores that hurry to the wedding altar. Only mountains, deep crevices and silence everywhere falling like snowdrift from space. Only before dawn a sight opens with female beauty.
Time creeps through the wedding ring.
The hills are like female thighs. The sound of the hooves swells in the valley through thickets of light and petals of roses for the altar. The spring among them and the male thirst burst through night s thickness exulting the meeting with the festive song risen to the zenith. Suddenly the wind paid me a visit and sat in the room beside me, full of silence. It wore a white garment like a knight a white star on its forehead.