cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco

cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco

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—Sí, hombre, tate tranquilo. Dormite. —Es que currucado no me puedo dormir luego. —Estiráte, pué... —No puedo, tata, mucho yelo... —¡A la puerca, con vos! Cuchuyate contra yo, pué... Y Goyo Cuestas, que nunca en su vida había hecho una caricia al hijo, lo recibía contra su pestífero pecho, duro como un tapexco; y, rodeándolo con ambos brazos, lo calentaba hasta que se le dormía encima, mientras él, con la cara añudada de resignación, esperaba el día en la punta de cualquier gallo lejano. Los primeros clareyos los hallaban allí, medio congelados, adoloridos, amodorrados de cansancio; con las feas bocas abiertas y babosas, semiarremangados en la manga rota, sucia y rayada como una cebra. Pero Honduras es honda en el Chamelecón. Honduras es honda en el silencio de su montaña bárbara y cruel; Honduras es honda en el misterio de sus terribles serpientes, jaguares, insectos, hombres... 34 “You got it, boy. Don’t worry. Go to sleep.” “But I can’t fall asleep all curled up.” “Stretch out, then…” “I can’t, Pop, it’s too cold…” “Good grief! Cuddle up with me then…” And Goyo Cuestas, who had never in his life embraced his son, brought him to his foul chest, hard as a tapexco71 , and, hugging him with both arms, warmed him up until finally he fell asleep on top of him. With resignation on his face, he waited for morning to be announced on the crow of any distant rooster. The first rays of the sun found them there, almost frozen, in pain, feeling drowsy with fatigue, with their ugly mouths opened and drooling, semicovered under the ragged, dirty blanket with stripes like a zebra But Honduras is deep in the Chamelecón. Honduras is deep within the silence of its barbaric, cruel mountains; Honduras is deep within the mystery of its terrible serpents, jaguars, insects, men... 71. A box-shaped object made out of strips of thin bamboo that serves multiple purposes, from a bed to a chestbox. It is believed that you are born on it, you sleep on it as an adult, and that you die and are buried in it.

Hasta el Chamelecón no llega su ley; hasta allí no llega su justicia. En la región se deja —como en los tiempos primitivos— tener buen o mal corazón a los hombres y a las otras bestias; ser crueles o magnánimos, matar o salvar a libre albedrío. El derecho es claramente del más fuerte. * * * Los cuatro bandidos entraron por la palizada y se sentaron luego en la plazoleta del rancho, aquel rancho náufrago en el cañaveral cimarrón. Pusieron la caja en medio y probaron a conectar la bocina. La luna llena hacía saltar chingastes de plata sobre el artefacto. En la mediagua y de una viga, pendía un pedazo de venado olisco. —Te digo ques fológrafo. —¿Vos bis visto cómo lo tocan? —¡Ajú!... En los bananales los ei visto... —¡Yastuvo!... La trompa trabó. El bandolero le dio cuerda, y después, abriendo la bolsa de los discos, los hizo salir a la luz de la luna como otras tantas lunas negras. 35 Honduran law can not reach as far as the Chamelecón; justice is never seen that far. In that region, it is up to individuals, as in primitive times, to be good or badhearted towards other men and other beasts; to be cruel or magnanimous, to kill or to save according to their free will. The right is clearly on the side of the strongest. * * * The four bandits came through the forest and quickly perched themselves down on the porch of the shack… that shipwrecked shack on a windy sugar plantation. They put the stolen box in the middle and tried to connect the bellflower-shaped horn. The full moon made pieces of silver jump out of the artifact. In the middle of the roof, and hanging from a beam, was a piece of stinking venison. “Ah tell ya it’s a pholograph.” “You seen how it works?” “Of course! I seen it in the banana plantations…” “We’ve got it made!” One of the bandits assembled the bellflower horn and cranked it up. He opened the bag of records, and pulled them out into the light of the moon creating so many other black moons. The phonograph worked.

—Sí, hombre, tate tranquilo. Dormite.<br />

—Es que currucado no me puedo<br />

dormir luego.<br />

—Estiráte, pué...<br />

—No puedo, tata, mucho yelo...<br />

—¡A la puerca, con vos! Cuchuyate<br />

contra yo, pué...<br />

Y Goyo Cuestas, que nunca en su vida<br />

había hecho una caricia al hijo, lo<br />

recibía contra su pestífero pecho, duro<br />

como un tapexco; y, ro<strong>de</strong>ándolo con<br />

ambos brazos, lo calentaba hasta que<br />

se le dormía encima, mientras él, con la<br />

cara añudada <strong>de</strong> resignación, esperaba<br />

el día en la punta <strong>de</strong> cualquier gallo<br />

lejano.<br />

Los primeros clareyos los hallaban<br />

allí, medio congelados, adoloridos,<br />

amodorrados <strong>de</strong> cansancio; con<br />

las feas bocas abiertas y babosas,<br />

semiarremangados en la manga rota,<br />

sucia y rayada como una cebra.<br />

Pero Honduras es honda en el<br />

Chamelecón. Honduras es honda en<br />

el silencio <strong>de</strong> su montaña bárbara<br />

y cruel; Honduras es honda en el<br />

misterio <strong>de</strong> sus terribles serpientes,<br />

jaguares, insectos, hombres...<br />

34<br />

“You got it, boy. <strong>Don</strong>’t worry. Go to<br />

sleep.”<br />

“But I can’t fall asleep all curled up.”<br />

“Stretch out, then…”<br />

“I can’t, Pop, it’s too cold…”<br />

“Good grief! Cuddle up with me<br />

then…”<br />

And Goyo Cuestas, who had never in his<br />

life embraced his son, brought him to<br />

his foul chest, hard as a tapexco71 , and,<br />

hugging him with both arms, warmed<br />

him up until finally he fell asleep on top<br />

of him. With resignation on his face, he<br />

waited for morning to be announced<br />

on the crow of any distant rooster.<br />

The first rays of the sun found them<br />

there, almost frozen, in pain, feeling<br />

drowsy with fatigue, with their ugly<br />

mouths opened and drooling, semicovered<br />

un<strong>de</strong>r the ragged, dirty blanket<br />

with stripes like a zebra<br />

But Honduras is <strong>de</strong>ep in the Chamelecón.<br />

Honduras is <strong>de</strong>ep within the silence of<br />

its barbaric, cruel mountains; Honduras<br />

is <strong>de</strong>ep within the mystery of its terrible<br />

serpents, jaguars, insects, men...<br />

71. A box-shaped object ma<strong>de</strong> out of strips of thin bamboo that serves multiple purposes, from a bed<br />

to a chestbox. It is believed that you are born on it, you sleep on it as an adult, and that you die and are<br />

buried in it.

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