Venice masks

Monday 5 December 2016

The sound of a silver bridle - Begziin Yavuuhulan

I’m waiting for my lover to arrive,
the sound of horses’ hooves pressed upon my heart.
Outside, the night is soundless, peaceful, and
the moon lights up the rafters.
Sleep has fled and, on my orphaned pillow,
I am snared by lovesickness.
And the dull sound of a silver bridle
brings happiness to my passionate heart.

Begziin Yavuuhulan (1929-1982) Mongolia
Translated by by Simon Wickham-Smith
Source: The Best American Poetry

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