Nazarín

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after Buñuel 

Love is the great 
unspoken thing: 
the horse and his oats 

To be 
what a mountain would want: 
money on the table, 
the pitcher on the floor 

God must be laughing 
at the window, having nothing 
to carry 

I walk with my feet 
I want to drink in the stream 
in the cool desert trees 

Reject sorrow 
Endure what sorrow leads you to 

A scene at a well 
Devotion isn’t passion 

To look into the face 
and do nothing 
To carry it all 
to the black and white limit 

To be given to giving away 
so to not know the difference 
To be taken 
on the road, your body 
at its shadow 

The horse will not live 
The donkey won’t replace it 
The man will, gratefully 
without thinking anything 
of it