[HARMONICA]
Good to be here.
Let's see.
I could-- when I went across the border line,
and then I was hauled down in a truck
to the camp of Los Chirriones, and there's
a fellow who then became a very close friend of mine, Porfirio
Somosa.
And Porfirio was a very strange man.
Actually in the book there is a line that goes,
that was said by Maria Aviles, Porfirio is--es lunático.
All of his family say it is so.
But I thought he was wonderful.
I thought he was one of the most insightful people I've ever
been around.
And it was a delight to be around him.
In any case, we got down to the camp of Los Chirriones,
and he began to sing and what he sang was.
[HARMONICA]
(SINGING) El veintiocho de noviembre presente lo tengo yo,
en el rancho Los Chirriones la corrida comenzó.
Swish, swish, sounds of the wind on the grama grasses.
[COUGHING]
By the corrals of El Dormido in Sonora, Mexico,
we sit watching the clouds go past, the planet spinning
somewhere in space, while Porfirio's horse paws
the ground two times with his hoof,
and the billow-like wings of a raven swish past us,
headed toward the west.
And the mornings of the days of the round
up come like beautiful old ladies
of the night in Agua Prieta who slowly
paint eye shadows onto their faces
and step out from the darkened shadows of their rooms to stand
by their doorways waiting.
The light.
Come on.
Let's go catch the morning light.
We'll climb the cliff rocks by the ridgeline trail
to see that morning light running along the ridgeline.
To see who taught the white winged doves to sing,
that sweet sound of forever.
Forever echoing along the cliff rocks in the Cajón Bonito,
along the cliff rocks by the ridgeline trail.
Come on, are you ready?
Hurry up, let's go.