Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
One horse is once on the horizon,
One fought would be a flower in the city,
Living a lie too small and big,
Loathing the bullets flying and spinning.
I see the horses of the champions,
Their galloping erodes the heavens
Like a city full of gravity and health,
Loving the vacuum of space.
My horses are polite and objective
Like the horizon they understand,
Journeys are uptight and upright,
Journey through the cosmos with their backs.
One horse combines with a person
With buttons and keys that lower a praise
That is a prize for the condemned,
Offering little to the maimed ones.
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