The small blue Arab stallion dances on the hill like a glancing breaker, like a storm rearing in the sky, In his prick-ears,the wind, that wanderer and spy, sings of the dunes of Arabia, lion-coloured still. The small blue stallion poses like a centaur-god, netting the sun in his sea-spray mane, forgetting his stalwart mares for a phantom galloping unshod; changing for a heat-mirage his tall and velvet hill.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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