This poem is from Saint-John Perse ( Praise, 1908) and I asked here for Charlotte Bousquet itself cavalier and poet.
I liked a horse - who was it? - He got a good look at the face, under her hair.
holes live his nostrils were two beautiful things to see - living with this hole that inflates over each eye.
When he ran, he was sweating: it shine! - And I pressed the sides of the moons in my lap a child ...
I liked a horse - who was it? - And sometimes (as an animal knows better what forces we boast)
he raised his head a brazen gods: fan, furrowed with veins of a petiole.
("Grey Horse" Theodore Gericault.)
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