The Old Solomon From the Orangefield

In Orangfield the trees are big and breathless Looking down toward the deep landscapes Below the brushes and horses wastes, Between the barricade filled with the chickens And barefoot children; a road to right, The house of the Old Solomon From El Paso. He's tall and gray, With roaring eyes and tolling hair and long Fingernails as well as with compelled Smile, who is now living in Orangefield, Trying to make his last masterpiece. It may sound silly To write about this sick old Solomon From Orangefield, El Paso, Texas, glancing down, walking Slow, scenes he carries over His shoulders, a sunset hail, they said. When in winter or in spring back into himself, The pledge thoughts that soon or later, The black smile will take him, Right there, in the Orangefield, the man Who came from El Paso and he was Anxious to write his last masterpiece, Even the foretell swallow him to death. Short days before he wrote "By the Valley" On a breathed line: "I got Below it, the blue dream." He felt good, He shall not fail that from above With small eyes and poppies tip, The scented voice was coming and coming Out of the head, from this man who Came from El Paso who will die here In the Orangefield, whose last wishes Were to write his rendezvous masterpiece.