Cortázar traducción final

A Tale of the Ragged Mountains

Translated by Anna Higgins

 

During the autumn of 1827, while I resided near Charlottesville (Virginia), I became acquainted by chance with Mr. Augustus Bedloe. This young gentleman was notable in every sense and awakened in me a profound interest and deep curiosity. I found it impossible for me to understand his physical and moral dispositions. I could not obtain satisfactory information about his family. I never discovered where he came from. Even his age- although I described him as a young gentleman- unsettled me a bit. Surely he seemed young, and he was pleased to speak about his youth; there were many moments when I could have easily attributed to him one hundred years of age. But nothing was more peculiar than his physical appearance. He was uniquely tall and thin and very hunched over. He had his excessively long and stark limbs, his wide and tall forehead, his bloodless complexion, his large and flexible mouth, and his teeth more uneven, although healthy, than I have ever seen in a human head. The expression of his smile, however, in no way was unpleasant, as one would imagine; but it was absolutely unchanging. He had a profound melancholy, a uniform, constant sadness. His eyes were an abnormal size, large and round, like those of a cat. Also, his pupils suffered a contraction or dilation with the increase or decrease of light like one can observe in the feline specimen. In moments of excitement his eyes shone to an almost inconceivable degree; they appeared to emit luminous rays, not of a reflected light, but an intrinsic one, like a candle, like the sun; but generally he had an appearance so muted, so veiled and opaque, that his eyes evoked those of a long-buried cadaver.

Xpobal- traducción final

Translation: Inquisitorial Process of Xpobal

“Processes of Indian Idolatry and Sorcerers”

Page 165

 

o.- Witness, Alonso de Linón, Spanish.

 

Alonso de Liñan, a witness sworn under law before the sign of the cross, said: that I will tell the truth on everything that was asked, for the oath that I have made; asking, that what it is that he knows about this matter, and if he saw Xpobal,[1] native Indian of Ocuituco, and his brother Martín, drunk, he said: that for the oath that I have made, that last night, that was Quasimodo Sunday,[2] I was speaking with Luis Alvarez, and when they wanted to go to bed, we heard voices and mitote[3] that were being made from the house of the aforementioned Xpobal, Indian, and the one who testifies took his sword and went to see what thing was over there, and passed by Xpobal’s house and heard him crying out like a drunkard, and wanting to enter there, he heard other voices there in the same street, close to the home of the aforementioned Xpobal, and he went over there, and entered the house of a principal[4] who was named Martín, brother of the aforementioned Xpobal, where voices were shouting, and he found the aforementioned Martín and others drunk and so far from sense that they were unable to stand and saying a thousand absurdities and heresies…

…and upon arriving, they saw that the aforementioned Xpobal very bewildered and far from sense, with a garland of roses and two súchiles[5] in his hands, dancing and singing, and two Indians holding him up by the arm so that he would not fall, and a large quantity of townspeople had come out to the voices and canticles that accompanied the aforementioned Xpobal, and the one who testifies requested of one of his Indians that he tell him what was he was singing, and he responded, “do you not see that he is calling the devil,”

…the aforementioned father Diego Diez was locked away in his bed chamber, and because of the shouts that accompanied the aforementioned Xpobal, left his bed chamber and reprimanded and told him to go home or be damned, many times, and not to disturb the town anymore; he refused to do so, instead he was singing and dancing more and saying many things and nonsenses, sometimes singing, other times crying and dancing; and the aforementioned father Diego Diez ordered him to be locked away with his other aforementioned brother, those which were singing and crying and laughing and yelling out and saying nonsenses until almost the daytime; and this witness ordered to call the brother of the aforementioned Xpobal and other pilguanejos,[6] so that they would talk and they would make them be quiet, those which they reprehended and when they refused to be quiet, instead he threatened them and yelled out in louder voices; and that this is the truth and he signed it with his name. -Alonso de Liñan

[1] Shorthand for “Cristobal”

[2] The first Sunday after Easter

[3] Word the Spaniards used for general chaos and uproar made by the native population, but mitote was actually a native word for a specific type of ceremony. The Spaniards misconstrued its connotation to mean their interpretation of native activities.

[4] Principal refers to a native leader and elder.

[5] Súchiles refers to a type of flower that grew in the natives’ land.

[6] Pilguanejos refers to the native housekeeping staff.

Cortázar- 1ra traducción

A story of the Steep Mountains

During the autumn of 1827, while I was residing near Charlottesville (Virginia), I coincidentally got caught up in a relationship with Mr. Augustus Bedloe. This young gentleman was notable in every sense and awakened in me profound interest and curiosity. It resulted in it being impossible for me to understand him in the physical as much as the moral. I could not obtain satisfactory reports/references from his family. I never discovered where he was from. Even in his age- if I described him well as a young gentleman- there was something that unsettled me a little. Surely he looked young, and he was pleased to speak about his youth; there were more moments when it would not have been very difficult for me to attribute him to being a hundred years old. But nothing was more peculiar than his physical appearance. He was uniquely tall and thin, very hunched over. He had excessively long and stark limbs, his wide and tall forehead, his bloodless complexion, his big and flexible mouth, and his teeth more mismatched, although healthy, than I have ever seen in a human head. The expression of his smile, however, in no way turned out unpleasant, as one would imagine; but it was absolutely invariable. He had a profound melancholy, a uniform, constant sadness. His eyes were of an abnormal size, big and round, like those of a cat. Also, his pupils suffered a contraction or dilation with the increase or decrease of light like that which one can observe in the feline specimen. In moments of excitement his eyes shone to an almost inconceivable point; they appeared to emit luminous rays, not from a reflected light, but an intrinsic one, like a candle, like the sun; but generally he had an appearance so muted, so veiled and opaque, that his eyes were like those of a cadaver buried for a long time.

Xpobal 1ra traducción

Translation: Inquisitorial Process of Cristobal

“Processes of Indian Idolatry and Sorcerers”

Page 165

 

o.- Witness, Alonso de Linón, Spanish.

 

Alonso de Liñan, a witness legally certified in the form of law above the sign of the cross, said: that I will tell the truth on everything that was asked, for the judgment that has been made; asking, that what it is that he knows about this matter, and if he saw Cristobal, natural Indian of Ocuituco, and his brother Martín, drunk, he said: that for the judgment that has been made, that last night, that was Quasimodo Sunday, I was speaking with Luis Alvarez, and that they wanted to go to bed, we heard voices and uproar that were being made from the house of the aforementioned Cristobal, Indian, and that this man that testifies took his sword and went to see what thing was over there, and passed through Christopher’s house and heard him crying out like a drunkard, and wanting to enter there, he heard other voices there in the same street, close to the home of the aforementioned Christopher, and he went over there, and entered the house of a main man who was named Martín, brother of the aforementioned Christopher, where voices were crying out, and he found the aforementioned Martín and others drunk and so far from sense that he could not have them on their feet and saying a thousand nonsenses and heresies…

…and the arrivers saw that the aforementioned Christopher came very bewildered and out of mind, with a garland of roses and two flowering tree branches in his hands, dancing and singing, and two Indians who he brought by the arm so that he would not fall, and a large quantity of townspeople had come out to the voices and canticles that the aforementioned Christopher was bringing with him, and this man that testifies requested of one of his Indians that he tell him what was he was singing, and he responded, “you don’t see that he is calling the devil,”

…the aforementioned father Diego Diez was locked away in his bed chamber, and because of the cries that the aforementioned Christopher made, left his bed chamber and told him off and told him to go home at a bad time, many times, and that not to disturb the town anymore; which he never wanted to do it, before he was singing and dancing more and saying many things and nonsenses, to the singing voices, other times crying and dancing; and the aforementioned father Diego Diez ordered him to be locked away with his other aforementioned brother, those which were singing and crying and laughing and yelling out and saying nonsenses until almost the daytime; and this witness ordered to call the brother of the aforementioned Cristobal and other housekeeping service members, so that they would talk and they would make them be quiet, those which they reprehended and not through this they gave up on doing it, before he threatened them and yelled out in louder voices; and that this is the truth and he signed it with his name. -Alonso de Liñan

Azuela traducción final

The Underdogs

Part I

 

“I’m telling you, it’s not an animal. Listen to how Palomo barks. It must be a person…”

The woman fixed her eyes on the darkness of the range.

“And are those federales there?” suggested a man who, in a squat, was eating in a corner, a cooking pot in one hand and three taco-shaped tortillas in the other.

The woman didn’t answer him; her senses were focused outside of their little home.

A noise of hoofs was heard on the rocky ground nearby, and Palomo barked with even more fury.

“It would be good if you hide anyway, Demetrio.”

The man, without getting flustered, finished eating; he lifted a jug by both hands and drank the water gushing out. He then put it at his feet.

“Your rifle is underneath the backpack,” she said in a low voice.

The little room was illuminated by a tallow candle. A yoke, a plow, a cane and other farming tools rested in a corner. From the roof hung cords holding an old mold of adobe that served as a bed, and atop blankets and faded rags slept a little boy.

Demetrio held onto the holster at his belt and lifted the firearm. Tall, robust, with a bright red face, without a beard, he was dressed in a shirt and pants made of muslin, a wide-brimmed hat and wooden sandals.

He left step by step, disappearing into the impenetrable darkness of the night.

Palomo, infuriated, had jumped the fence of the farmyard. Suddenly a shot was heard, the dog gave a muffled whimper and didn’t bark anymore.

Some men on horses arrived yelling and cursing. Two of them hopped off and the other stayed to take care of the beasts.

“Women, something for dinner! Eggs, milk, beans, whatever you have, we came dying of hunger.”

“Damned range! Only the devil would get lost!”

“I’d be lost, sergeant, if I came as drunk as you…”

One was wearing chevrons on his shoulders, the other red ribbons on his sleeves.

“Where are we, old hag? You’re all alone! Is this house all there is?”

“And then, this light? And this child? Hag, we want to eat and we want to eat soon! Are you going to do it or do we have to make you?”

“Evil men, you have killed my dog! What could Palomo have done to deserve this, even if he tried to eat you?”

The woman entered dragging the dog, very white and fat, with pale eyes and a loose body.

“Just look at her rosy cheeks, sergeant! My love, don’t get angry, I swear I’ll turn this house into a dovecote; but, by God!

Don’t look at me angrily…

No more strife…

Look at me caringly,

Light of my life,”

he finished singing with a husky voice.

“Ma’am, what is this name of this little ranch?” asked the sergeant.

“Limón,” answered the woman sullenly, already blowing the hot coals of the fireplace and bringing the firewood closer.

“So then this is Limón? The land of the famous Demetrio Macías! Did you hear that, lieutenant? We’re in Limón.”

“In Limón? Good, easy! You already know, sergeant, if I go to hell, no better time than now, and I’m going on the good horse. Just look at her rosy cheeks! Apples to bite into!”

“You have met this bandit, ma’am…I was together with…”

Azuela- 1ra traducción

Those From Below

Part I

 

“I’m telling you, it’s not an animal. Listen to how the pigeon barks. It should be something Christian…”

The woman focused her pupils on the darkness of the range.

“And are those police there?” suggested a man that, squatting, was eating in a corner, a cooking pot in one hand and three taco-shaped tortillas in the other.

The woman didn’t answer him; her senses were positioned outside of the hovel.

A noise of hoofs was heard on the rocky ground nearby, and the pigeon barked with even more fury.

“It would be good if you hide yourself just in case, Demetrio.”

The man, without getting flustered, finished eating; he lifted a jug by both hands and drank the water gushing out. He then put it at his feet.

“Your rifle is underneath the backpack,” she said in a low voice.

The little room was illuminated by a wick stuck in fat. A yoke, a plow, a cane and other farming tools rested in a corner. From the roof hung cords holding an old mold of adobes that served as a bed, and on top of blankets and faded rags slept a little boy.

Demetrio held onto the holster at his belt and lifted the firearm. Tall, robust, with a bright red face, without a beard, he was dressed in a shirt and pants made of muslin, a wide hat made of soybeans and huarache sandals.

He left step by step, disappearing into the impenetrable darkness of the night.

The pigeon, infuriated, had jumped the fence of the farmyard. Suddenly a shot was heard, the dog gave a muffled whimper and didn’t bark anymore.

Some men on horses arrived yelling and cursing. Two of them hopped off and the other stayed to take care of the beasts.

“Women, something for dinner! Eggs, milk, beans, whatever you have, we came starving of hunger.”

“Damned range! Only the devil would get lost!”

“They’re lost, my sergeant, if they came as drunk as you…”

One was wearing braids on his shoulders, the other red ribbons on his sleeves.

“Where are we, old hag? But with one! Is this house all there is?”

“And then, this light? And this kid? Hag, we want to eat and we want to eat soon! Are you going or do we have to make you go?”

“Evil men, you have killed my dog! What do I owe you, even if my poor Palomo eats you?”

The woman entered bringing the dog in with rakes, very white and very fat, with already glassed-over eyes and a loose body.

“Just look at his red cheeks, sergeant! My goodness, don’t get angry, I swear you’ll turn this house into a pigeon loft; but, by God!

Don’t look at me angrily…

No more strife…

Look at me caringly,

Light of my life,

She finished singing with a husky voice.

“Ma’am, what is this name of this little ranch?” asked the sergeant.

“Lemon,” answered the woman sullenly, already blowing the hot coals of the fireplace and bringing the firewood closer.

“So then here is Lemon? The land of the famous Demetrio Macías! Did you hear that, my lieutenant? We’re in Lemon.”

“In Lemon? Good, for me I couldn’t care less! You already know, sergeant, if I go to hell, no time is better than now… I’m going on the good horse. Just look at its dark cheeks! A Perón to bite it!”

“You have met this bandit, ma’am…I was together with…”

Rulfo- traducción final

You Don’t Hear the Dogs Howling

 

“Ignacio, tell me if you hear a sign of some kind or if you see a light up there.”

“I see nothing.”

“We should be close by now.”

“Yeah, but I can’t hear anything.”

“Look harder.”

“There’s nothing there.”

“Poor you, Ignacio.”

The long black shadow of the men kept moving up and down, scaling the rocks, shrinking and growing while it advanced along the riverbank. It was a single shadow, wavering.

The moon was bursting out of the ground, like a glowing orb.

“We should be arriving to this town by now, Ignacio. Keep an ear out, focus and see if you can’t hear the dogs howling. Remember, they told us that Tonaya was just beyond the hill. And it’s been hours since we passed the hill. Remember, Ignacio.”

“Yeah, but I don’t see a trace anything.”

“I’m tired.”

“Put me down.”

The old man backed himself up until he reached the wall of river rock and regained his strength there, without releasing the load from his shoulders. Although his knees buckled, he did not want to sit, because afterwards he would not be able to lift his son’s body, which hours before, the others had helped him load onto his back. And he carried him this way ever since.

“How do you feel?”

“Bad.”

He spoke very little. Each time less. At times, he looked like he was sleeping. At times, he looked like he was cold. He shook. He knew when the tremors took a hold of him because of the jolts he felt, and because his feet would fit into his sides like spurs. Later the hands of the son that were locked onto his neck were shaking his head as if it were a rattle. He clenched his teeth as to not bite his tongue and when he finished, he asked,

“Did it hurt you much?”

“A bit,” he answered.

First, he had said, “Put me down here…leave me here…you go alone. I will reach you tomorrow or as soon as I recover.” He had said this about fifty times. Now he did not even say that. There was the moon. In front of them. A giant and colored moon that was filling their eyes with light and that stretched and darkened more of the ground with its shadow.

“I still don’t see where I’m going,” he was saying.

But nobody answered.

The other man was still up there, everything illuminated by the moon, with his pale bloodless face reflecting a dull light. And the other man there underneath.