1984-bilingue

George Orwell 1 9 8 4
moment. producido la cicatrización final e indispensable, el
cambio salvador.
The voice from the telescreen was still pouring
forth its tale of prisoners and booty and slaughter,
but the shouting outside had died down a little. The
waiters were turning back to their work. One of
them approached with the gin bottle. Winston,
sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his
glass was filled up. He was not running or cheering
any longer. He was back in the Ministry of Love,
with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow.
He was in the public dock, confessing everything,
implicating everybody. He was walking down the
white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in
sunlight, and an armed guard at his back. The longhoped-for
bullet was entering his brain.
He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it
had taken him to learn what kind of smile was
hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel,
needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed
exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears
trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all
right, everything was all right, the struggle was
finished. He had won the victory over himself. He
loved Big Brother.
336
La voz de la telepantalla seguía enumerando el
botín, la matanza, los prisioneros, pero la gritería
callejera había amainado un poco. Los camareros
volvían a su trabajo. Uno de ellos acercó la botella
de ginebra. Winston, sumergido en su feliz
ensueño, no prestó atención mientras le llenaban el
vaso. Ya no se veía corriendo ni gritando, sino de
regreso al Ministerio del Amor, con todo olvidado,
con el alma blanca como la nieve. Estaba
confesándolo todo en un proceso público,
comprometiendo a todos. Marchaba por un claro
pasillo con la sensación de andar al sol y un
guardia armado lo seguía. La bala tan esperada
penetraba por fin en su cerebro.
Contempló el enorme rostro. Le había costado
cuarenta años saber qué clase de sonrisa era
aquella oculta bajo el bigote negro. ¡Qué cruel e
inútil incomprensión! ¡Qué tozudez la suya
exilándose a sí mismo de aquel corazón amante!
Dos lágrimas, perfumadas de ginebra, le resbalaron
por las mejillas. Pero ya todo estaba arreglado,
todo alcanzaba la perfección, la lucha había
terminado. Se había vencido a sí mismo
definitivamente. Amaba al Gran Hermano.