TWILIGHT

I have in my love black horses,
of ideas made of mud,
made of forgotten words
and the exile faces.
The ship of the thoughts
it has emigre,
ravaged shipwreched
to another exoteric return
to another youth, more unfaithful.
The reality emigre in my memoria
burning twilight
drive me through another skin.
Dark happiness envolve me
come to wake up me suddenly.
Beautifull horses pass,
narrow roads run.
Dreams! Hope!
Beauty of the dreams
and the hope galloping.
I have in my love
black and white horses.
Ana Artiel