Destiny is chained
to a swift horse
snow-white
like those of kings.
No one can loosen
these ropes of iron.
The steed gallops,
bearing on his back
his Cavalier
dressed in red,
his face white,
priestly his body,
his orbits empty,
without eyes.
Destiny does not like the light.
When the sun sets
and darkness invades the earth,
the tragic horseman
appears on the highest
summit of the world
and laughs,
laughs again, and again,
deeply, violently.
Then he lashes his horse
and departs.
Appears, disappears,
fleeing everywhere.
Like a whirlwind
he sweeps over all the earth
heralded by a piercing
shriek of wind.
After there comes the silence
which follows great hurricanes.
And men say pensively
as they make the sign of the cross:
“Destiny has passed.”
