... adapted from the autobiography (published posthumously in 1998)
I saw him for the first time at sunset.
Only by little shafts of light split the black clouds that had fled to the east. The vast plain was alive all of emerald green, the grass was still dripping with glittering beads for the storm just passed.
He was there: with the tendons of the hock tense, ready to shoot, his neck thrust forward, the tousled head and tail horizontal buttons nostrils, eyes fixed on the horizon, where it stood out, clearly violates The colonnade of Metaponto.
His dark coat shone in the rain.
For a moment he turned his head toward me, and came back immediately in previous installation. I did not have time to do five steps toward the horse, with a nitrite, a surge, like a lightning bolt went off and disappeared.
In the village I asked who it was that beautiful horse and his owner, but I had only vague answers and perhaps ambiguous. Finally, a farmer told me that the horse had no owner and that he had repeatedly viewed from the temple and lived in the wild and no one could approach it, but added that brought good luck to those who could see ...
... In the days spent in the district that mysterious, driven by dark desires, I went twice in the plain of temples, but had no luck.
But the third day I saw him: he was far away and was moving slowly poking its nose with fresh grass.
suddenly ran zig-zag in the grass and as they headed toward the point where I was, as if seized by frenzy, shaking his tousled head of Medusa, broke the run with spikes.
I was close but I stayed for so long to follow him in his antics, feeling a strange stirring inside me.
Suddenly I wondered what it was that my trembling soul, that precipitate heart beat, anxiety that I had everything.
such as lightning, I realized that I wanted very strongly be that horse:
My life as her!
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