On the vast expanses, on the tops of mountains,
The horse is black with white wings, with a long mane,
Riding on the plains of freedom.
It flies across the sky and up to the moon,
Knocking down the stars with its hooves,
Unbridled, wild, a child of nature playfully passionately jumps slowing down the time of the gaze.
You are stunned by the attraction either from nature or from her child.
Your eyes are burning, you need her, oh this horse, oh this audaciously developing mane,
Oh this is what you wanted inside yourself, to feel like.
You want to command her,
But you don't need a bridle, nor a saddle.
You are grabbing her by the mane, and then by the neck,
In her ear you whispered about love.
The horse kicked, reared up, screamed,
But you are calm, a smile on your face, you are on a horse,
She in the arms strong enough and the strength is running out to resist these words.
These strong hands…
A sense of security and confidence in these hands and her fate.
Everything was quiet, except for the hearts and breathing.
Now you got down and came up to consolidate the victory by looking into her eyes,