cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco
cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco
cuentos de barro - DSpace Universidad Don Bosco
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Una especie <strong>de</strong> aullido <strong>de</strong> pereza le<br />
contestó. Luego, la voz atecomatada<br />
<strong>de</strong>l compañero respondió:<br />
—Ai veya, mano...<br />
—Amonóos...<br />
Los indios, hurgando en la sombra <strong>de</strong>l<br />
caedizo, escogieron los utensilios y<br />
fueron trasladándose al bote. El bote<br />
dormía, encallado, mitad en el agua,<br />
mitad en la arena. Un chucho prieto<br />
iba y venía husmeando el viaje. Por<br />
efecto <strong>de</strong>l silencio <strong>de</strong>l agua, <strong>de</strong> la luz,<br />
<strong>de</strong>l cielo bajero, el mundo todo parecía<br />
palpitar, cabecear como un barco en<br />
marcha. Los pocuyos, <strong>de</strong>spenicados85 en la inmensidad, arrullaban la cuna<br />
<strong>de</strong> la noche con su triste «oíeo, oíeo,<br />
oíeo», que sonaba intermitente, como<br />
la paletada blanda <strong>de</strong>l remo que va, va,<br />
va... sin prisa y sin ruido.<br />
—Ya va ser parada diagua, vos.<br />
—Ya paró, mano.<br />
—¡Aligere, pué!...<br />
Despegaron el bote a empujones<br />
y pujidos. El bote coleó, libre,<br />
<strong>de</strong>scantillándose tantito y revolviendo<br />
la plata <strong>de</strong> la luna en <strong>de</strong>sparpajos.<br />
85. Dispersar.<br />
86. Pocuyos or “Whippoorwill” are nocturnal birds.<br />
87. Spanish “oíeo, oíeo, oíeo”<br />
44<br />
A sort of sleepy howl answered him.<br />
Then, his partner’s barely intelligible<br />
voice answered:<br />
“Up to you, man.”<br />
“Let’s go, then.”<br />
Poking around in the shadows of the<br />
porch, the peasants picked up their<br />
fishing gear and hea<strong>de</strong>d towards<br />
the rowboat. The boat was sleeping<br />
anchored half in the water, half in the<br />
sand. A black dog was pacing back<br />
and forth, sensing the upcoming trip.<br />
Because of the effect of the silence of<br />
the water, of the light, of the low sky,<br />
the whole world seemed to throb,<br />
to nod off like a boat on its course.<br />
Pocuyos, 86 dispersed in the vastness,<br />
lulling asleep the cradle of the night<br />
with their sorrowful lullaby 87 which<br />
soun<strong>de</strong>d just like the soft rowing of the<br />
paddle that goes, and goes and goes...<br />
without hurry and without noise.<br />
“The waves have calmed down, man.”<br />
“Yes, they stopped.”<br />
“Let’s go, then!”<br />
Pushing and moaning they shoved<br />
the boat. It rocked free, tilting a<br />
little, fragmenting the reflection of<br />
the moon mirrored in the water.