cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco

diambre. Sentía que se ahogaba, en
un dolor amoroso que le llegaba a la
coronilla. Su amado papa lo bía sacado
diarrastradas, aquella tarde maldita; lo
bía ido empujando parajuera: “¡Váyase,
desgraciado, váyase; usté nues mijo,
váyase; no güelva, babosada, no seya
que se me vaya la mano!”.
Por dos veces, su papa le bía
encumbrado el corbo. Allí se estuvo
llorando, sin comer, sin dormir... Tenía
hinchados los ojos, la boca pasmada, la
mente vacía.
Aquella atardecida, cuando ya las
sombras estaban maduras y se
desprendían; cuando los toros pasaban
empujando un alarido, y las estrellas
se despenicaban como florecillas sobre
el patio del cielo, Pedrón surgió de la
breña y cayó sobre su hijo, como un
jaguar hambriento de amor. Le corría
el llanto por la cara y por la camisa. Se
hundió al hijo en el pecho, sofocando
sus sollozos.
—¡Mijo, mi lindo!... Perdonáme, cosita;
taba como loco!...
Le sobaba la crencha lacia, ebrio de
compasión.
—¡No cuede ser, Crispito e mialma;
no cuede ser, no cuedo vivir sin vos!...
¡Estos diyas negros mián quitado la
vida! He sentido que tenía trabado al
corazón, el puñal que le dejé al dijunto;
yo mesmo me bía hecho el maldiojo. Al
fin juimos con Tadeyo, y se lo quitamos;
hora te siento mijo otra güelta...
100
tangle of leaves, under the thickets, he
hoped to starve himself to death. He
felt that he was drowning in a loving
pain that covered him from head to toe.
His dear dad had dragged him outside
that damned afternoon. He pushed
him away: “get out, motherfucker, get
out! You ain’t mine son. Get out and
don’t come back, little shit, before it’s
too late.”
Twice his dad had threatened him
with a machete. There he was, he cried
and cried, without eating, without
sleeping… his eyes were puffy, his jaw
sobbed, and his mind was empty.
That afternoon, when the shadows
were already ripe and were dropping
down, when the oxen were passing by
pushing a shriek, and the stars were
plucked like insignificant flowers in the
backyard of the sky, Big Pete emerged
out of the shrubs and fell over his son,
like a love-starved jaguar. His tears ran
down his face and onto his shirt. He
buried his son in his chest, snuffing his
sobs.
“My son, my treasure! Forgive me my
beloved, I was crazy!”
He caressed his son’s straight coarse
hair, inebriated with compassion.
“It can’t be, Crispín you is a part of my
soul. It cannot be, I can’t live without
you! These dark days have taken my
life! I felt that the dagger that I left in
the dead man was stuck in my own
heart. I made myself miserable. Tadeyo
and me finally went over to the grave
and removed the dagger. I now feel
that you are my son again...