cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco

VIrGeN De luDreS
En el suave momento en que la tarde
se bía puesto a sonrír, la virgen blanca
que estaba en un hueco de la peña, se
puso amariya, amariya de una luzazón
dorada, que cáiba del cielo, sin que se
viera de qué sol. Pringaba. Las hojas
de los quequeishques taban llorando,
tal vez defriyo, tal vez de tristes, por
el temporal que no amenguaba. El
farolito colorado quiantes no se veiya,
siba haciendo flor en la escurana: flor
tinta como la jila195 , como la pascua,
como la flor de fuego.
La Candelaria siarrimó a la baranda de
la gruta. Se bía tapado la cabeza con el
chal desteñido; tenía apretado entre
las manos el pañal que le servía de
pañuelo; como en los quequeishques
por su cara barriosa se deslizaban
lágrimas. Ispió, tímida, pa todos lados;
se hincó... Naide pasaba... Miró para
arriba, hasta la virgen, mientras mordía
la punta del chal.
—Virgen de Ludres —murmuró—
hacéme la mercé que te pido; vos bien
tas al tanto e la pobreza diúno; ha caido
el otro con un dolor, el mesmo del
muerto; alentálo, madre, por el amor
de Dios.
195. O Xila.
112
THe VIrGIN of
lourDeS
In the soft moment in which the
afternoon began to smile, the white
virgin that was in the cave in the side
of a cliff was turning yellow, like the
yellow of a golden light that fell from
heaven. Nobody knew from which sun
it came. It was drizzling. The leaves of
the arum were crying, maybe because
of the cold, maybe because they were
sad since the rain wouldn’t let up. The
colored little lantern that couldn’t be
seen before began blossoming in the
darkness like a red flower from the
tassel tree, like the poinsettia, like the
fire flower.
Candelaria approached the handrail of
the grotto. She had covered her head
with a faded shawl. Pressed between
her hands, she had a cloth that served
as a handkerchief. Like from the arums,
tears slid down her muddy face. She
glanced, timidly, all around, she knelt
down… no one was around… she
looked up towards the virgin while she
bit the end of her shawl.
“Virgin of Lourdes,” she murmured.
“Grant me the favor I’m asking of
you. You’re well aware of our poverty.
Another one is sick with a pain, the
same pain as the one that died. Make
him better, Mother, for the love of
God.”