Traducción de Curuzú

Fundación Elephant Minds


Continua la traducción de Curuzú gracias al trabajo y dedicación de la Lic. Patricia C Prada Jimenez, Fundadora y Directora de elephant Minds, Londres, Inglaterra.

"...And the eyes met for the eleventh time, that day. Some were two huge stakes breaking the piri, the others were tame islands galloping through the sunsets. Neither of them looked down; the man because he had had the remote vision of contemplating his executioner, and the yacaré, because he had probe in his senses the meaning of loneliness.

- Good day, Iberá! - The gaucho shouted, to drive away the stillness of the reed fields.

The voice was cut immediately by the racket of ducks and herons and even by the tail of the immense animal, which wriggled furiously, splashing his face with mud. Then, Antonio Curuzú Gil smiled for the first time in months. He knew the prophecies of nature by heart and they even amused him. He thought that there was nothing more shocking than the scream of the Esteros breaking up the silence of the afternoon. On those days, there were men who were paralyzed with fear before their condemnation and others that purposely sought for that echo, like a chicotazo of life to ride bareback through the open field. From childhood, Curuzú had incarnated both situations, he learned the spelling of the hidden signs of the embalsados, to decipher the omen of the creatures that inhabited it and even to knead their thoughts. That is why, seeing his death in the yellow eyes of the yacaré, he felt no fear, rather an infinite gratitude to Los Esteros del Iberá, which showed him his destiny.

He left the animal behind, even knowing that the animal was still watching him. He rode with his eyes fixed on the floating islets, his face serene and his head barely tilted as if in a state of deep meditation. Almost at midday, the air was transforming into a living boiler and the sky closed completely. Soon the wind came along with a bunch of caranchos that would accompany him until the end of his days. The gaucho immediately guessed what the commotion was all about, because more than birds in the sky, they were a pack of wild dogs gutting the sky. The scavengers matched their march to that of the man. They flew almost touching his hat. From that day on, they never gave him a moment of truce and wherever he went they were there. Sometimes, dotting the horizon and other times barely visible behind the bushes. He became so accustomed to their presence, to the brown plumage, to their curved beak, to those vigorous nails, to their annoying cry, that he even came to miss them when he did not sleep in the open..."

From Curuzú, by Gladys M Acevedo
Translated by Patricia C Prada Jimenez
Fundación Elephant Minds