Taming a Horse
The youth walks up to the white horse, to put its halter on
and the horse looks at him in silence.
They are so silent, they are in another world.
—D. H. Lawrence
Its blackness: is this what drains all words of their colour?
its gentleness is what makes you firm
gripping the reins that he once gripped
your hand is strong again – you’re in the stable, stroking
its jet-black coat, your face pressed close
to its jet-black face, its breath, jet-black too, flowing
down your ear canal toward your cochlea
like thawing swampwater seeping into the plain of hearing
It’s winter and you’re pulling off its horseshoes
just like he did, snow shaking off the tin roof above
silence glitters blackly in the horse’s eyes
(two small spirits breathing out wonder
at the human world) its has long eyelashes
and long, slender ears, you tease the comb gently
through its mane and tail, static electricity crackling
in your palms, like a system of metal roots proliferating
You know every lamp begins in darkness
but no person’s eyes can be a source of light
the horse stands before you, black, impenetrable
a dark star whose interior pushes you back
into darkness as you approach it – how could he
have been so at ease, riding this creature? You wake
and find yourself standing on the dim cold floor
you’ve been gone from them for too long
You hear a horse galloping out of you into the night
Are the lights in the window the eyes it left behind?
Writing poetry is gazing out into the darkness
and listening for a sound reply
About the translators
Austin Woerner is a Creative Fellow in Chinese-English literary translation at the University of Leeds.
Zheng Wanqi is an MA student currently enrolled in the English Literature course at the School of English, University of Leeds.