After watching the movie, I was strongly impacted, so I wrote the first poem during the epidemic. Under the gaze of such a great movie, all the sorrows seemed to be entangled together and became an indestructible force. "The Horse of Turin" They ate two potatoes every day to feed a horse. The father stared out of the window with one eye open, and the day went by. The daughter took him back on the first day and changed his clothes, layer by layer. The right half of the paralyzed body is loosened from top to bottom. The other half belongs to God and will continue to suffer. The water for boiling potatoes comes from a well outside the house. The wind is not destroying but building this exile. The gypsies who enter the door speak a language we can understand They act like a father's bearded symbol and its clear "Water, we are human too, we need to drink water" The strangers have nothing to draw The next day the well is empty and long The hairy one was the Turin horse that Nietzsche held at first it didn't eat then it didn't sleep standing between father and daughter ready to disappear day after day they didn't do anything if they weren't alive and no one spoke but their friends were always there Calling Balinka, a language takes over his body, he can't go home without alcohol, what's going on? Father and daughter pack up and prepare to make the house into a house, take the clothes, potatoes, and needles, lead the horse, go down the hill, leave the cave Come back soon the storm doesn't seem to stop Where to go at night the lights go out then the fire daughter asks dad where are you "sleep we won't starve to death tonight at least" 1.5
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