A Mare
The mare is one,
Numerous are the riders
To ride on,
They ride on turn by turn,
By whipping her
Through the glades,
Forest and desert,
And all paths of wilderness,
Sometimes on serpentine routes
Through the mountains,
Caring least her needs,
Except a change of saddle,
They make on each ride.
After having ridden the beast
They go aboard,
Wait for their own next turn again,
Leaving her behind in trouble and pain.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Added by Poetry Lover
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