Dusk

The lamp that stands beside the crib

Is not yet lighted to warm the gloom

Of the blueish, opaque light falling

Through the curtains of late afternoon.

From outside come unfamiliar sounds

And weary children interrupt their play

While in every corner of the house

Fairies awaken at the end of day.

Shadows gathering among the drapes

Rustle and murmur to childish ears,

And from the pages of their storybooks

Come all their favorite characters.

First, industrious Rin Rin Renacuajo,

And Mouse Pérez, scurrying to survive,

Then, casting even deeper shadows,

Blue Beard, who killed his seven wives.

Given life in darkest corners,

Somewhere in a distant wood

Puss-in-Boots strides through the meadows

And the Wolf stalks Little Red Ridinghood.

In a deep dark forest echoing

With chilling howls, the handsome Prince,

On his white charger, rides toward

Sleeping Beauty, who awaits his kiss.

The children’s voices, silver and pure,

Form a chorus that speaks as one:

“Then they went to the ball and left

Poor Cinderella all alone.

“She wiped away her flowing tears

And scrubbed the kitchen pots and bowls

Watching the dance leaping among

Somber shadows and glowing coals.

“But her fairy godmother soon appeared

With a beauteous gown and, in a thrice,

From a pumpkin produced a golden coach

With prancing steeds, once six white mice.

“She gave Cinderella a lush bouquet

And a glass slipper she quickly donned,

She turned ashes to flashing jewels

With one wave of her magic wand.”

Abandoned dolls tossed on the carpet,

The listening girls sit in thrall,

The light grows pale and dark creeps in

As lowering evening shadows fall.

Wondrous stories of fairies and sprites

Are alive with ideas and fantasies,

They open to childish imaginations

A whole world of possibilities!

Stories born of times long gone,

Wing through the dark of ages,

From powerful, early Aryan tribes

To diminished future races.

These stories are told by nannies

When children can’t get to sleep,

The essence of poetic dream

Is the mystery they keep.

These stories have proved more lasting

Than tomes of the philosophers

And with every generation

Have entertained our ancestors.

O tales of elves and ghosts and fairies

That people the dreams all children have,

Time buries you forever in our soul

And man evokes you with his love.