cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco

el rumbo a los barcos de silencio con
sus grandes velámenes de sombra.
Solo y negro en la altura, el carbonero
iba viviendo como en un sueño. Tenía
un perro mudo y una gran tristeza.
Acurrucado y friolento, encendido
siempre el puro y el corazón, se estaba
allí mirando el abismo, sin remedio.
Como a los pantes de leña oscura, la
brasa del corazón le iba devo rando las
entrañas; y aquel resplandor de misterio
se le iba subiendo a la concencia.
Una noche, qflegido, lió sus trapos y se
marchó pá nunca...
—¡Puerca, mano, méi juido dialtiro e
la cumbre! Miatracaba un pen sar y un
pensar...
127
It would burn red and palpitating,
signaling the course to the silent boats
with their big, shadowy sails.
Alone and black in the heights, the
charcoal-burner was living as if [living]
in a dream. He had a mute dog and
a great sadness. Curled up and cold,
his cigar and his heart were always
burning; he would stay there watching
the abyss, without consolation.
Like the dark piles of logs, the embers
of his heart were devouring his insides;
and that mysterious glow continued
rising in his conscience.
One night, heartbroken, he picked up
his stuff and left for good…
“Holy cow! I finally left the peak once
and for all and these thoughts that have
been attacking me over and over…”