Texto en español en Breves no tan breves: "Lo vi venir".
Again the embraces, again the regards, again the comings and goings.
And again the absences.
Two days were absent for the end of year. The stores of the people already were exhibiting the lambs newly slaughtered.
As an established ritual, aunt Tita was making salads. Aunt Elda would buy the Quilmes, and uncle Agustín would yield the court of the bottom again. It it was delivering illuminated with lights blue and yellow, that were hanging of the centenary grapevine.
Armando, Julián and I —that already we were large— we had as mission solve it of the principal plate: a pig.
“Why a pig???”, Julián protested.
“Its call pork, beast!!!!”, Armando said.
“It will be because last year we ate chicken”. I answered.
“Since it is”, Armando said mysteriously. “This it is not the problem. The problem is that it is necessary to kill the pig”.
“To kill the pig?” I annotated, without me a cumin concerns this height of the party if it was pork or pig. I was feeling unable to kill an ant, but I didn´t say anything —“And, how does a pig kill himself?”
“¡You strike it with a stick in the head and I list, salame!” Julián gave about-face, with this simplicity of the one that he ignores.
“For me that the matter is much more complicated.” Armando continued, becoming the enigmatic one. “I believe that it is necessary to drain it. The blood joins and with it the pudding is done. I listened that one fixes a cleaver to him in the neck until it is drained.”
“Hey…. Was not pudding a blood of horse?” answered Julián. And one did not see it very convinced with it in the change of plan of execution.
“Of the horse the mortadella is extracted”. I said with airs of connoisseur. “Of old horse”. I added, reinforcing the concept of one, since in order that they were not realizing that he was not very sure of what he was saying.
“Since it is” Pronounced Armando, already feeling leading. “It is necessary to kill the pig. So better we put in agreement, and between the three we attack it. We prepare it, cook it and eat up it.
“And if we poison it?” suggested Julián on very low voice, since not to be heard.
“Are you stupid or you do yourself!” spat Armando. “If we eat it, we also go away to poisoning, do not you realize?”
“And if we ask to uncle Agustín?” I said. “Sure that the old man can do.”
“Not even being mad I ask the old man him!”, said Armando. “Already uncontroversial leader. He’s going to laugh in our faces during an entire month, he´s going to tell to the whole world hat useless that we are.”
“Kill a dirty person is so simple as it”. Julián gave an opinion. “We it catch strictly between ourselves three. Later we it go on to better life in a jiffy.”
“Difficult it would be if it was one against one, body to body.” Thoughtful one saw Armando. “Probably it would become more difficult. But between the three we it do ham in an instant.”
“We must do it.” I said, not knowing my own voice of authority. “We must do it tomorrow to the dawn. In order that there are no discussions that each one clutches the weapon that more convinces it”. I turned to see Armando. “You, will bring the this cleaver, which belong to the grandfather. Julián, you must be arming yourself with a cudgel of the woodshed. At six o'clock exactly! They are not going to trump me, eh.”
“And you…” He joked Armando. “What you are going to use? ¿ The word?”
“A stone. It: an immense stone I am going to take.”
This night, without detaching the eyes of the alarm clock for fear of remaining slept, he was thinking that others were not sleeping either. For worse, as the hours were happening, less it could only to sleep. At about half after three, I fell produced.
I dreamed of the pig: it was shouting as a boy. Armando, implacably, it was fixing to him again and again the cleaver in the heart. Julián him was not stopping sticking blows, with brutality in the head, was beating him.
At thirty after five exactly, the small bell of the alarm clock sounded to rope inherited from the grandfather.
It is necessary to be stupid, to put the alarm clock to kill a pig! I said to myself.
From the window, I saw how the contours of the trees were starting receiving form, in this mysterious interval of semidarkness when it is not by day not by night. The dawn was giving a martial air to the whole moment. I felt in front of one execution. Like it was the last day of the world. I felt my imminent dead, and not that of the pig. I could feel a pain in the stomach.
Anxious to end as soon as possible, I closed the door with key like who it goes on holidays for three months, did not even know why. I did not also know why I looked at the things of the house as for last time.
My eyes are detained in the pictures, in the photos of birthday. On one of theirs, I see the football's cup, when we were champions.
Without preambles, the pigsty was the place of meeting before the battle.
The air had become heavy, thick. It was difficult to breathe.
Nobody said any word.
Armando with his rusty, threatening cleaver.
Julián brandishing his cudgel: a brace of quebracho tree higher than he.
The morning it was stinking to butcher's shop.
Already there was no return. Though we wanted to go back, there was no return. The heart me was resounding in the chest.
Extracting force of do not be where, I loaded on the shoulder the biggest stone those that I found to the side of pigsty.
Ceremonious, Armando opened the door.
And, when the three we were in, it closed it with supreme care.
I spied on them out of the corner of the eye: they were very pale.
Internally, I requested that the pig was slept.
But, the beast seemed to wait for us.
I saw it giant. With these killer eyes of cornered animal.
Everything happened too rapidly:
First it was for Armando. The poor had not managed not to raise the cleaver. The beast trampled on it, since to insure itself that already it was not moving.
Julián, going to escape, stumbled over the brace of quebracho tree. And the monster buried the snout in the throat, shaking shreds of muscles and hide.
I could not move.
I saw it come.
Oscar Piolini
Traducido al inglés.
Again the embraces, again the regards, again the comings and goings.And again the absences.
Two days were absent for the end of year. The stores of the people already were exhibiting the lambs newly slaughtered.
As an established ritual, aunt Tita was making salads. Aunt Elda would buy the Quilmes, and uncle Agustín would yield the court of the bottom again. It it was delivering illuminated with lights blue and yellow, that were hanging of the centenary grapevine.
Armando, Julián and I —that already we were large— we had as mission solve it of the principal plate: a pig.
“Why a pig???”, Julián protested.
“Its call pork, beast!!!!”, Armando said.
“It will be because last year we ate chicken”. I answered.
“Since it is”, Armando said mysteriously. “This it is not the problem. The problem is that it is necessary to kill the pig”.
“To kill the pig?” I annotated, without me a cumin concerns this height of the party if it was pork or pig. I was feeling unable to kill an ant, but I didn´t say anything —“And, how does a pig kill himself?”
“¡You strike it with a stick in the head and I list, salame!” Julián gave about-face, with this simplicity of the one that he ignores.
“For me that the matter is much more complicated.” Armando continued, becoming the enigmatic one. “I believe that it is necessary to drain it. The blood joins and with it the pudding is done. I listened that one fixes a cleaver to him in the neck until it is drained.”
“Hey…. Was not pudding a blood of horse?” answered Julián. And one did not see it very convinced with it in the change of plan of execution.
“Of the horse the mortadella is extracted”. I said with airs of connoisseur. “Of old horse”. I added, reinforcing the concept of one, since in order that they were not realizing that he was not very sure of what he was saying.
“Since it is” Pronounced Armando, already feeling leading. “It is necessary to kill the pig. So better we put in agreement, and between the three we attack it. We prepare it, cook it and eat up it.
“And if we poison it?” suggested Julián on very low voice, since not to be heard.
“Are you stupid or you do yourself!” spat Armando. “If we eat it, we also go away to poisoning, do not you realize?”
“And if we ask to uncle Agustín?” I said. “Sure that the old man can do.”
“Not even being mad I ask the old man him!”, said Armando. “Already uncontroversial leader. He’s going to laugh in our faces during an entire month, he´s going to tell to the whole world hat useless that we are.”
“Kill a dirty person is so simple as it”. Julián gave an opinion. “We it catch strictly between ourselves three. Later we it go on to better life in a jiffy.”
“Difficult it would be if it was one against one, body to body.” Thoughtful one saw Armando. “Probably it would become more difficult. But between the three we it do ham in an instant.”
“We must do it.” I said, not knowing my own voice of authority. “We must do it tomorrow to the dawn. In order that there are no discussions that each one clutches the weapon that more convinces it”. I turned to see Armando. “You, will bring the this cleaver, which belong to the grandfather. Julián, you must be arming yourself with a cudgel of the woodshed. At six o'clock exactly! They are not going to trump me, eh.”
“And you…” He joked Armando. “What you are going to use? ¿ The word?”
“A stone. It: an immense stone I am going to take.”
This night, without detaching the eyes of the alarm clock for fear of remaining slept, he was thinking that others were not sleeping either. For worse, as the hours were happening, less it could only to sleep. At about half after three, I fell produced.
I dreamed of the pig: it was shouting as a boy. Armando, implacably, it was fixing to him again and again the cleaver in the heart. Julián him was not stopping sticking blows, with brutality in the head, was beating him.
At thirty after five exactly, the small bell of the alarm clock sounded to rope inherited from the grandfather.
It is necessary to be stupid, to put the alarm clock to kill a pig! I said to myself.
From the window, I saw how the contours of the trees were starting receiving form, in this mysterious interval of semidarkness when it is not by day not by night. The dawn was giving a martial air to the whole moment. I felt in front of one execution. Like it was the last day of the world. I felt my imminent dead, and not that of the pig. I could feel a pain in the stomach.
Anxious to end as soon as possible, I closed the door with key like who it goes on holidays for three months, did not even know why. I did not also know why I looked at the things of the house as for last time.
My eyes are detained in the pictures, in the photos of birthday. On one of theirs, I see the football's cup, when we were champions.
Without preambles, the pigsty was the place of meeting before the battle.
The air had become heavy, thick. It was difficult to breathe.
Nobody said any word.
Armando with his rusty, threatening cleaver.
Julián brandishing his cudgel: a brace of quebracho tree higher than he.
The morning it was stinking to butcher's shop.
Already there was no return. Though we wanted to go back, there was no return. The heart me was resounding in the chest.
Extracting force of do not be where, I loaded on the shoulder the biggest stone those that I found to the side of pigsty.
Ceremonious, Armando opened the door.
And, when the three we were in, it closed it with supreme care.
I spied on them out of the corner of the eye: they were very pale.
Internally, I requested that the pig was slept.
But, the beast seemed to wait for us.
I saw it giant. With these killer eyes of cornered animal.
Everything happened too rapidly:
First it was for Armando. The poor had not managed not to raise the cleaver. The beast trampled on it, since to insure itself that already it was not moving.
Julián, going to escape, stumbled over the brace of quebracho tree. And the monster buried the snout in the throat, shaking shreds of muscles and hide.
I could not move.
I saw it come.
Oscar Piolini
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