The Horses of the Sahara and the Manners of the DesertDaumas, E. (Eugène)
History
The Horses of the Sahara and the Manners of the Desert
Daumas, E. (Eugène)
Arabian horse; Sahara
Love horses and take care of them,
Spare no trouble;
By them comes honour, by them comes beauty.
If horses are forsaken of men,
I will receive them into my family,
I will share with them the bread of my children;
My wives clothe them with their veils,
And cover themselves with the horse-cloths;
I ride them every day
Over the field of adventures;
Carried away in their impetuous career
I combat the most valiant.
I have finished the letter which our brother and companion, the friend
of all men, the Commandant Sidi-Bou-Senna [Boissonnet], will cause to be
delivered into your hands. Peace!
THE WAR HORSE.
AN ARAB CHAUNT.
My steed is black as a night without moon or stars;
He was foaled in vast solitudes;
He is an air-drinker, son of an air-drinker.
His dam also was of noble race,
And our horsemen of the days of powder have surnamed him Sabok.[55]
The lightning flash itself cannot overtake him:
Allah save him from the evil eye!
His ears vie with those of the gazelle,
His eyes are the eyes of a woman with wiles,
His forehead resembles that of a bull,
His nostrils the cavern of a lion.
His neck, shoulders, and croup are long,
He is broad in the seat, in the limbs and flanks,
He has the tail of a viper, the thighs of an ostrich,
And his vigorous heels are lifted above the ground.
I reckon upon him as upon my own heart.
Never has mortal mounted his equal.
His flesh is firmer than that of the zebra;
He has the short gallop of the fox,
The easy and prolonged running of the wolf;
He accomplishes in one day a five days' march;
And when he stretches out at full speed,
he strikes the girts with his hocks.
You would say that it was a dart hurled by fate,
Or a thirsty pigeon that precipitates itself
Upon the water preserved in the hollow of a rock.
Yes, Sabok is a war horse!
He loves the chace of savage animals,
He sighs only for glory and booty,
And the cries of our virgins excite his ardour.
When I urge him into the midst of dangers,
His neighing summons the vultures
And makes my enemies tremble;
On his back, death cannot overtake me,
It fears the sound of his hoofs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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