The old sheepdog laps

By the lamplight

He laughs

And an apple bough falls to the ground

A murderer drives a stake through the heart of another man,

A drunkard pours a glass of wine

My dog sits quiet by the fan

Carranza dances by the fire

And Pancho laps 

A stake through the heart, a drunk by the sea,

And Pancho agrees

With the warm flame 

Swallowing birch and 

Smelling of whiskey-coated cloves

And cardamom seeds

Who is this man 

Who has the nerve not to mind?