In silence was already the tower peak

The poplars whispering in Salto creek

The Norman horses tied to their fences

were munching wheat with loud crunches

Down there, wild, the mare stood

born on the beach under the pines' hood

She still had in her nostrils the sea's salty tears

and the loud shrieks in the pointy ears

On the croup an elbow, near her

was my mother, whisperer

"Oh filly, oh dapple filly, who used to pack

the one that now is never coming back

You understood his every word and bid

now he left behind a young kid!

Eighth of the children I could attain

and his hand never touched a rein

You, who feel the hurricane in your stand

listen to the plead of his tender hand

You that have in your heart the barren coast

give to his young voice a riposte"

The mare turned the gaunt head

to my mother, and she sadly pled:

"Oh filly, oh dapple filly, who used to pack

the one that now is never coming back

I know, I know you loved even his breath

with him there were only you and his death

Oh, you were born among the waves and wind's might

you kept in your heart all your fright

feeling on the bit loosen his grip

your heart felt to press on the trip

but then slowly on your way you went

to let him peacefully finish his torment..."

the thin and long head stood near the eye

of my mother, lost in a sorrowful cry

"Oh filly, oh dapple filly, who used to pack

the one that now is never coming back

Oh! He must have said something on his seat!

And you understood, but you can't repeat!

You with the loosened bridles in your ways

You with still in your eyes the blaze

You with the echo of the bangs in your ear

the way among the poplars you kept to clear

You brought him back at the ending of the day

So that his last words to us he could say."

The proud head alert did remain

then my mother hugged her mane

"Oh filly, oh dapple filly, you brought on your humpback

to his house who's never coming back.

To me, who's never ever coming back though

You've been good... but talking you don't know!

You can't, poor dear... others I don't dare

Oh! But one thing you have to declare!

You saw who brought his demise:

I can see it written in your eyes

Who did? Who is? I'll say a name now

And you give me a sign. May God teach you how!"

Now the horses weren't munching the fodder

they were dreaming the white streets to plodder

they weren't beating the thatch with their heels

they were dreaming the slow rolling of the wheels

My mother's index raised, skinny

Silence... then a name... it boomed a loud whinny