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Services
Translation, Editing/proofreading, Native speaker conversation, Language instruction
Expertise
Specializes in:
Poetry & Literature
History
Food & Drink
Cooking / Culinary
Idioms / Maxims / Sayings
Linguistics
Volunteer / Pro-bono work
Open to considering volunteer work for registered non-profit organizations
Spanish to English: Pedro Páramo (by Juan Rulfo) General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - Spanish Era la hora en que los niños juegan en las calles de todos los pueblos, llenando con sus gritos la tarde. Cuando aún las paredes negras reflejan la luz amarilla del sol.
Al menos eso había visto en Sayula, todavía ayer a esta misma hora. Y había visto también el vuelo de las palomas rompiendo el aire quieto, sacudiendo sus alas como si se desprendieran del día. Volaban y caían sobre los tejados, mientras los gritos de los niños revoloteaban y parecían teñirse de azul en el cielo del atardecer.
Ahora estaba aquí, en este pueblo sin ruidos. Oía caer mis pisadas sobre las piedras redondas con que estaban empedradas las calles. Mis pisadas huecas, repitiendo su sonido en el eco de las paredes teñidas por el sol del atardecer.
Fui andando por la calle real en esa hora. Miré las casas vacías; las puertas desportilladas, invadidas de yerba. ¿Cómo me dijo aquel fulano que se llamaba esta yerba? «La capitana, señor. Una plaga que nomás espera que se vaya la gente para invadir las casas. Así las verá usted.»
Al cruzar una bocacalle vi una señora envuelta en su rebozo que desapareció como si no existiera. Después volvieron a moverse mis pasos y mis ojos siguieron asomándose al agujero de las puertas. Hasta que nuevamente la mujer del rebozo se cruzó frente a mí.
—¡Buenas noches! —me dijo.
La seguí con la mirada. Le grité:
—¿Dónde vive doña Eduviges?
Y ella señaló con el dedo:
—Allá. La casa que está junto al puente.
Me di cuenta que su voz estaba hecha de hebras humanas, que su boca tenía dientes y una lengua que se trababa y destrababa al hablar, y que sus ojos eran como todos los ojos de la gente que vive sobre la tierra.
Había oscurecido.
Volvió a darme las buenas noches. Y aunque no había niños jugando, ni palomas, ni tejados azules, sentí que el pueblo vivía. Y que si yo escuchaba solamente el silencio, era porque aún no estaba acostumbrado al silencio; tal vez porque mi cabeza venía llena de ruidos y de voces.
De voces, sí. Y aquí, donde el aire era escaso, se oían mejor. Se quedaban dentro de uno, pesadas. Me acordé de lo que me había dicho mi madre: «Allá me oirás mejor. Estaré más cerca de ti. Encontrarás más cercana la voz de mis recuerdos que la de mi muerte, si es que alguna vez la muerte ha tenido alguna voz.» Mi madre. . . la viva.
Hubiera querido decirle: «Te equivocaste de domicilio. Me diste una dirección mal dada. Me mandaste al “¿dónde es esto y dónde es aquello?” A un pueblo solitario. Buscando a alguien que no existe.»
Llegué a la casa del puente orientándome por el sonar del río. Toqué la puerta; pero en falso. Mi mano se sacudió en el aire como si el aire la hubiera abierto. Una mujer estaba allí. Me dijo:
—Pase usted.
Y entré.
Translation - English It was that time when children would be playing in the streets in any other town, filling the afternoon air with their shouts. A time when even the blackest walls shone with the yellow of the sun.
At least that is how it was in Sayula, just yesterday at this same hour. And I had seen the flights of pigeons breaking the still of the air, flapping their wings as if to shake off the daylight. They flew and fell to the rooftops, while the children’s shouts wheeled through the air and took on the blue of the deepening twilight.
Now I was here, in this silent village. I heard my every footfall on the round cobblestones with which they paved the roads. My hollow footfalls, making an echo on the walls tinted by the twilight sun.
I was walking on the main road now. I looked at the empty houses, their doors cracked and overrun by plant life. What had so-and-so called them? “La capitana, sir. A menace that invades the house the moment nobody is around to stop it. As you can see.”
Crossing a side street, I saw a woman wrapped in a shawl, who disappeared as if she had never existed. I moved on, looking again at the ruined doors until the same woman in a shawl crossed in front of me once again.
“Good evening!” she said to me.
I kept my eye on her, then called out, “Where does Miss Eduviges live?”
She answered me by pointing. “There. The house close to the bridge.”
I realized that her voice was a human one, that her mouth had teeth and a tongue that tangled and untangled as she spoke, and that her eyes were no different than those of anyone else that walked the Earth.
Darkness had fallen.
She bid me good evening again. And while there were no children playing, nor birds, nor blue roof tiles, I felt that the village was alive. And that if I only listened to the silence, it was because I was still not used to silence; maybe my head was too full of voices and noise.
Yes, voices. And here, where the air was thin, I could hear them better. They stayed inside oneself, lying heavy. I was reminded of something my mother had said: “You’ll hear me better, there. I will be closer to you. You will find the voice of my memories is closer than that of my death, if my death speaks at all.” My mother…alive.
I had wanted to say, “You gave me the wrong address. You gave me bad directions. You sent me to, ‘Where is this and where is that?’ To a deserted village. Looking for someone who doesn’t exist.”
I arrived at the house on the bridge, guided by the sound of the river. I went to knock on the door, but never touched it. My hand hit only air, as if the air itself had opened on the door. A woman was there. She said to me, “Come in.”
And I entered.
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Experience
Years of experience: 6. Registered at ProZ.com: May 2022. Became a member: May 2022.
Adobe Acrobat, Microsoft Excel, Microsoft Word, Smartcat
Bio
I am a longtime and continuing student of language with a desire to use my experience and skills to facilitate communication. My experience is primarily in the non-profit and educational sectors, but I have both the desire and flexibility to branch out into other professional areas.
My main interests are in English-Spanish and Spanish-English translation, but I will also provide editing and proofreading services.
Member since May '22
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