Passage #81: 19 January 2011
Picnic de la Luna, Luna
La luna vino a la fragua
con su polisón de nardos.
El niño la mira mira.
El niño la está mirando.
En el aire conmovido
mueve la luna sus brazos
y enseña, lúbrica y pura,
sus senos de duro estaño.
Huye luna, luna, luna.
Si vinieran los gitanos,
harían con tu corazón
collares y anillos blancos.
Niño, déjame que baile.
Cuando vengan los gitanos,
te encontrarán sobre el yunque
con los ojillos cerrados.
Huye luna, luna, luna,
que ya siento sus caballos.
Níno, déjame, no pises
mi blancor almidonado.
El jinete se acercaba
tocando el tambor del llano
Dentro de la fragua el niño,
tiene los ojos cerrados.
Por el olivar venían,
bronce y sueño, los gitanos.
Las cabezas levantadas
y los ojos entornados.
¡Cómo canta la zumaya,
ay cómo canta en el árbol!
Por el cielo va la luna
con un niño de la mano.
Dentro de la fragua lloran,
dando gritos, los gitanos.
El aire la vela, vela.
El aire la está velando.
For the moon is tricky that way, you see. It'll steal your children if you're not careful. It'll steal them even if you are. No matter how many times you warn them, the moon, that most distant and mysterious of objects, will inevitably lure them away from you, you away from them. The pull of the moon is not, after all, just upon the tides. You might be inclined to dismiss this as just a bit of pop mythology, but it's pop mythology backed up by pop science! Crime goes up beneath the full moon. Animal behavior becomes less predictable. Who has not made some bad decision in the moonlight? And can you truly say that the decision was fully yours?
But all this awe and angst is making you hungry. And how can you resist a full moon without a full belly? You should do something about that. So should we all. Let's have a picnic, then. Appetizers in the garden, a main course by the babbling brook, and dessert back at the donut shop. Three perfectly serene locations for a full moon picnic, wouldn't you say? And when all is said and done, eaten and imbibed, maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to resist the pull of the moon. Or maybe not. It's worth a try.
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