Canción de Cuna

Outside, past the ceiling, la luna, lunera

shines up and down the long, dark road.

There, the tails of frogs begin to disappear

with the hum Sana sana colita de rana.

And there, the chicks in the cold are saying, pío, pío, pío.

There, the branches of wild plums let fall

their little fruits for crickets and a hungry mouse.

And there, somewhere your mother is singing to you.

Arrurrú and goodnight and prayers

on the rosary of her fingertips.

Nuestra Señora de las Lágrimas / Our Lady of Tears

may we all grow a little more by daylight

as does the olive, as does the orchard.