cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco

Dejando suelta al dulce ondeyo del
remolque la trenza de su canto, el
negro Calistro calló chachando su
mutismo al de su chero, como pa hacer
un tecomate de tristura. Iban ligeros;
más que sobre el cayuco, parecían
bogar sobre el silencio. Una quiotra
espumita iba reventona y efervescente
en la punta del remo, dejando oir su
leve gorgorito.
Seguía pringando cernido. Jueron
dejando de remar, dejando, dejando,
hasta que se quedaron casi quietos
sobre el respiro del agua dormida.
El sol, enmedio de la ñebla, era
como el corazón amariyo de una jlor
algodonosa. Echaron los anzuelos. En
aquella vagancia de las cosas no se
sabía si picaría un pez o si picaría un
pájaro.
* * *
Al mediodía se puso más tupido y más
jrío. Llevaban tres horas pescando y
no habían ajustado el tanto de rigor.
Oyeron un cantar bajito, allí cerquita,
y pensaron afligidos en El Duende. De
pronto, una sombra vaga surgió del
fondo de aquella claridad golpiada y
se precipitó violenta sobre el cayuco.
El golpe se oyó sordo como mazazo
en piladera, y tras el golpe el chukuz,
chukuz, chukuz de tres cuerpos al caer al
agua. Manoteyos, voces y maldiciones,
en trágico remolino, rondaron las
cáscaras de los cayucos embruecados.
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Letting loose the rope of his singing to
the sweet waves of the trip, Calistro, the
black man, was quiet uniting his silence
to that of his friend’s merging into a ball
of sadness. They were traveling fast.
Rather than over water they seemed
to row over silence. Every other crest
of the wave was breaking and seething
over the tip of the paddle, letting out
the sound of its soft warble.
It continued to steadily drizzle. They
ceased rowing until they were almost
motionless on the breath of the
sleeping water. The sun, amid the mist,
was like the yellow heart of a cotton-like
flower. They cast their lines. Because of
the circumstances, it was unknown
whether they would catch a fish or a
bird.
* * *
By noon it was raining ever harder and it
was even colder. They had been fishing
for three hours but had not caught
enough. They heard a soft singing
nearby and worried that it might be
the Goblin. Suddenly a vague shadow
emerged from the bottom of that
beaten clarity and launched violently
into the boat. The thump was heard
as a dull blow on a cayuco boat. The
smashing was followed by the sounds
plop, plop, plop of three bodies being
tipped into the water. In the tragic
maelstrom, hands smacking the water,
yelling and cursing were surrounding
the sides of the flipped boat.