He no longer returns to his stall, my faithful horse does not return, no longer neighs with joy, like when someone caressed him, and for that same time, it has been two years since he turned yesterday,
when a terrible plague rolled him in the pasture.
And he let out a long sigh, as a stone hardened,
poor my bay horse, how I cried when he died.
Beautiful dark horse, from my herd I have chosen,
to give it to my cat, let her forget the bay that already died,
he was the one I liked, to walk together the two of them,
to pass my bed, give it a shout and say goodbye,
When I made a big hole to bury it, it made me sad,
and I, with a wounded soul, said to him, God, I'll take you

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS