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He galloped down straight from the skies.
He trampled the grass, unbridled,
tore up the garden with his hooves,
and tied the Moon to the fence -
the secret sign that he was here.
Oh Lord, I'd have sensed him that night
though the whole world was deaf.
I remember nothing:
he was wild as a demon,
and then wistful like an angel.
I knew from the beginning
he'd shake off the two golden apples
that startled the Moon with their glow,
if I let him - but I wouldn't.
If I hide the apples in the garden
the centaur will come every night,
galloping down straight from the skies,
tying the Moon to the fence,
and she, envious thing that she is -
let her rumor it to the winds!
© Draga Djulgerova
Kessler, translated from bulgarian
© E-magazine LiterNet, 15.02.2014, № 2 (171)
Eclectica (USA), Jan/Feb