The task was strictly about saving virgins
He carefully picked the ****** instead
He might seem kind to you at the first place
But you have to wait to see his horse, or horses
He calls himself ‘Stray’ and warmly invites you to his house
Yet would ask your legitimacy with brutal softness to enter his property
Fortunately, I was good at omitting disputes,
And paying high attention at them too
He surely didn’t burn incense that evening, or any other evening
But he hunted innocent wild beings, and does it almost every day for pleasure
I remember laughing at a bald man for his funny walk once
While we crossed the same misery-deluged road
And there was Stray, making mentionable bonding with the untouchables,
Nothing could cut his route off to that disease-ridden muddy land
I learned, he and his horses didn’t know boundary of any sort
And audaciously would reach every horizon
But when they read me wrong, I calmly replied,
“Do not dare to call me a slave.
Because I still am the master of my thundering laughter.
And my tears after all know how to run like freemen.”