THE GYPSY NUN

Silence of lime and myrtle.
Mallows in slenders grasses.
The nun embroiders wallflowers
on a straw-coloured cloth.
In the chandelier, fly
seven prismatic birds.
The church grunts in the distance
like a bear belly upwards.
How she sews! With what grace!
On the straw-coloured cloth
she wants to embroider
the flowers of her fantasy.
What sunflowers! What magnolias
of sequins and ribbons!
What crocuses and moons
on the cloth over the altar!
Five grapefruit sweeten
in the nearby kitchen.
The five wounds-of-Christ
cut in Almería.
Through the eyes of the nun
two horsemen gallop.
A last quiet murmur
takes off her camisole.
And gazing at clouds and hills
in the strict distance,
her heart of sugar
and verbena breaks.
Oh what a high plain
with twenty suns above it!
What standing rivers
her fantasy sees setting!
But she goes on with her flowers,
while standing, in the breeze,
the light plays chess
high in the lattice-window.