The Starving Horse

I have a horse who, far from your horse, lives forever longing for a handful of hay. He sleeps through the day as if it were night, for the whole world looks black in his eyes. For food he digs the ground for scraps of straw; that is why he is bent double. Dressed in rags, dust upon his head, he never stops crying out from hunger. His back is spared the saddle at least, since an empty belly is his only refuge. From now on he will not walk a single step, for that cornered creature has no strength left in him. Yet in a race he would beat this horse, you will see, the horse that is the king's own companion. In his belief there is no worse place beneath the sky than this stall. No hay in it, no barley, no green grass; what kind of stable is this in the end? He has forgotten even the tale of barley, for it is so long since he last saw any. This is the state of barley, plainly told; he has not eaten hay for a month or two. To break his fast at night, all that is set before him is a mouthful of grass and well water. One day a Yemeni blade would eat him up ... (line incomplete) He bites at my face, because he mistakes my hand for hay. The whole world, down to the mud wall of the stall, bears witness to his hunger. If you would come to his rescue, come now, for his condition has gone past all bounds of ruin. Do not be fooled that he still breathes; it is a single breath, and then he is no more. Say the opening prayer once and bring him hay, do this for him, for he is innocent.