Between Desert and Steppe

I do not remember the archers
aiming at the night sky, yet in the light of dawn,
Scattered on the ground, lay fallen moons.
The nomads' white gers --asleep.

I do not remember that horses had wings;
There are no footprints on the ground.
I cling to a Pegasus, mane to the wind,
The hooves of my horse, dust-free.

I do not remember a shaman's magic dance;
But in the vastness of a Mongolian steppe,
my eyes saw the edge of the world disappear.
In the eeriness of the Gobi --a spell cast.
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