Travels to many lands,
marriage, babies, revolutions,
sorrows and joys, a meeting
with Martí in New York,
the inspiration to write
every day. . . .
In one verse, I warn Theodore Roosevelt,
powerful president of the United States,
that his aggressive nation’s violent invasions
of Latin America
will be met with furious
resistance.
It’s not difficult to predict wars
that are still far off in the distant future.
All the signs are present now—the US plans
to dominate our whole Spanish-speaking world.
They won’t succeed, because we will refuse
to be ruled by arrogant racial hatred.
In Mexico, I offend the dictator Porfirio Díaz,
and in Cuba, I read my verses out loud
to crowds of humble farmers,
surrounded by their listening wives
and spellbound children.
After all my complex poems written for grown-ups,
I end up feeling surprised that my most prized
and beloved words
are those of a fairy tale
I scribbled on the fan
of a young girl
named Margarita.
The first stanza is about
the beautiful sea
and scented wind,
pleasing images which lead
to a story of rebellious
independence.
Princess Margarita defies her father
by flying up into the sky
to fetch a brilliant star.
When the angry king warns
that heaven will punish her,
God himself speaks, revealing
that He’s pleased, admiring
her courage and perseverance
so sincerely
that He allows her
to carry the glittering treasure
back to Earth, where she wears
the star of light
as a jewel, fastened
to her silk clothing
right beside the rest
of her natural collection
of wonders—a feather,
a flower, a poem,
and a pearl.