Estrella del Valle

Sombrero

It was small, brown, and my grandfather's,
but I've already told you that before.
This sombrero was made of fine felt,
trimmed with elegant suede.
He bought it on the street in the 50s
to shade himself from the sun, to ask for
my grandmother's hand, and to pluck a coin
from behind his ear. He also wore it
during the storm season, at fiestas, and
at his granddaughters' First Communion.
In the afternoons, as the rain grew worse,
he put on his sombrero. It was made of fine felt,
trimmed with elegant suede.
It hung on the rack until three years ago,
and I wanted to write this poem.

Little Stars

My mother put them in a mason jar
and I took them with me. Then I was
five or six years old. How happy I was,
lucky with a million stars
twinkling above my head.
Don't eat them all.
Don't eat all the stars.
Then I was five or six years old. I ran
through the field, and all the paths
were lit with a million stars.
But the rich boy came and broke my jar,
and all my stars jumped out and scattered.
Look over there, they're in space.

-- Translated from the Spanish by Toshiya Kamei