A beautiful story of Prof. Antonio Ramirez Cordova
I leave home whistling an emotional bolero and my heart becomes victorious, because I will ride my horse The Sota a chocolate chestnut Paso Fino Puerto Rican, unique in the world, which can be toast or prose poem, and I recall my childhood, when enjoyed to the utmost a horse cochar small piece of cows, owned by my uncle Lalao Cordova. For me it was a magical horse to fly short bareback, imagining a chestnut colored bird took the heart of both the peak for that unforgettable farm black and white cows in Dutch breed.
I go into the instant fueling those memories and I think my eyes have watched too many horses and tell myself smiling in the depths of my life there is a horse and I'm overjoyed to find the back of my affectionate and heard snorting in the cage and my own amazement, I also hear the morning light that passes through the manger with pink yellow and then hear Guama tree that opens, illuminating in blue this morning Utuado, in Step Palmas neighborhood.
At the moment, under the many psalms jíbaro greenery, I say to the wind that the Puerto Rican Paso Fino horse is immortal, like the Greek mythological gods in antiquity.
And I go to the crib and I am happy and I say, look at the scenery is beautiful and put at the mercy of one astride a good horse, because riding a horse is to live deep poetry of life. Then I think, that if there were bells at that moment would throw the fly and say, or that I know by heart, that our Paso Fino horses awaken in their path with flowers cadence mañaneras centuries.
So when I get to the crib, I repeat what is already known, we would ride on the morning star, but I also say that I will ride on the star of the night and I turn on the soul and add smiling, where the dove perches as Now, God rests.
And I think the calender is also cock star when it flaps its wings black and orange before my eyes and that happens guaraguao high, almost touching the clouds as white as shaving soap and painted hen fled in terror behind the manger and I smile and say that the world will never be a dusty old hat. And go down to the bottom of my dream and I immediately have joined two friends fond of April when I put the saddle cloth on the back of my horse, I will ride on the roads of the day satisfied with splendor and joy, while The Sota orejea, because he feels that happen again by the beating of my heart in the land of paradise in the infinite.