With leather boots and hat and reins in hand,
Along the silent wind he swiftly glides,
Across the open plains and barren land,
Towards the bloodred sun the cowboy rides.
He reaches down and strokes his horse’s mane,
Its heart and his are beating just as one,
Within a worldly body soon to wane,
A soul transcends as brightly as the sun.
The cowboy wanders through the nameless towns,
As men and women stand in awe and grace,
Into an unlit room he settles down,
A bloodred sky shines down upon his face.
   Beneath a fabled veil and cowhide vest,
   A lonely man lies still in deep unrest.

–Based on McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses–