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First ProZ.com Translation Contest 2007: "First ProZ.com Translation Contest 2007" » English to Spanish » Entry by Fabio Descalzi

Source text in English

Translation by Fabio Descalzi (#26)

When she moved into his tiny house in Stroud, and took charge of his four small children, Mother was thirty and still quite handsome. She had not, I suppose, met anyone like him before. This rather priggish young man, with his devout gentility, his airs and manners, his music and ambitions, his charm, bright talk, and undeniable good looks, overwhelmed her as soon as she saw him. So she fell in love with him immediately, and remained in love for ever. And herself being comely, sensitive, and adoring, she attracted my father also. And so he married her. And so later he left her - with his children and some more of her own.

When he'd gone, she brought us to the village and waited. She waited for thirty years. I don't think she ever knew what had made him desert her, though the reasons seemed clear enough. She was too honest, too natural for this frightened man; too remote from his tidy laws. She was, after all, a country girl; disordered, hysterical, loving. She was muddled and mischievous as a chimney-jackdaw, she made her nest of rags and jewels, was happy in the sunlight, squawked loudly at danger, pried and was insatiably curious, forgot when to eat or ate all day, and sang when sunsets were red. She lived by the easy laws of the hedgerow, loved the world, and made no plans, had a quick holy eye for natural wonders and couldn't have kept a neat house for her life. What my father wished for was something quite different, something she could never give him - the protective order of an unimpeachable suburbia, which was what he got in the end.

The three or four years Mother spent with my father she fed on for the rest of her life. Her happiness at that time was something she guarded as though it must ensure his eventual return. She would talk about it almost in awe, not that it had ceased but that it had happened at all.

Cuando se mudó a la casita de él en Stroud y se hizo cargo de los cuatro hijitos, mamá tenía treinta años y aún era muy bonita. No creo que haya conocido antes a nadie como él. Ese joven bastante puritano, con su dedicada gentileza, sus gestos y modales, su música y sus ambiciones, su encanto, su brillante conversación, y su aspecto innegablemente agradable, la apasionó ni bien lo vio. Entonces se enamoró de él de inmediato, y seguiría por siempre enamorada. Y siendo ella atractiva, sensible y adorable, también atrajo a mi padre. Y se casaron. Hasta que un día la dejó - con los cuatro hijos de él, y algunos más que tuvo con ella.

Cuando él se fue, ella nos trajo al pueblo y esperó. Esperó durante treinta años. No creo que ella haya sabido nunca por qué él la dejó, si bien las razones parecían bastante claras. Ella era demasiado honesta, demasiado natural para este hombre tímido; demasiado alejada de sus rígidas normas. Después de todo, ella era una campesina; desordenada, histérica, amantísima. Era tan desordenada y exasperante como una grajilla de chimenea; hacía su nido con retazos y joyas, se alegraba con el sol, chillaba fuerte frente al peligro, husmeaba y era insaciablemente curiosa, se olvidaba de comer o comía todo el día, y cantaba con los atardeceres rojos. Ella vivía según las sencillas leyes del bosque, amaba al mundo y no hacía planes, tenía un rápido ojo para admirar las maravillas naturales y no hubiera podido nunca mantener una casa prolija toda su vida. Lo que mi padre deseaba era algo completamente distinto, algo que ella jamás le hubiera podido dar - el orden protector de un suburbio impecable, que era lo que tuvo al final.

Esos tres o cuatro años que pasó con papá, mamá se alimentó para el resto de su vida. Su felicidad de esa época era algo que ella guardó en lo más íntimo de su ser, como segura de que fuera a retornar de repente. Hablaría sobre ello como intimidada; no de que se hubiese terminado, sino de que había sucedido. [Subject edited by staff or moderator 2007-02-12 16:42]