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First ProZ.com Translation Contest 2007: "First ProZ.com Translation Contest 2007" » English to Spanish » Entry by David Cahill

Source text in English

Translation by David Cahill (#100)

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 vivir con él a su pequeña casa en Stroud, haciéndose cargo de sus cuatro hijos pequeños, Madre tenía treinta años y aún era bastante atractiva. Supongo que nunca antes había conocido a un hombre como él. Desde el primer momento en que le vio, fue cautivada por ese joven tan altivo, tan sumamente educado, con sus aires y maneras, su música y sus ambiciones, su encanto, su brillante conversación e innegable belleza. Ella se enamoró de inmediato, y así permaneció el resto de su vida. Y como era hermosa, sensible y afectuosa, mi padre también se sintió atraído y se casó con ella. Al poco tiempo la abandonó – con sus hijos y alguno más fruto del matrimonio.

Cuando él se fue, mi madre nos trajo al pueblo y esperó. Esperó durante treinta años. Creo que nunca supo por qué la había abandonado, aunque los motivos parecían bastante obvios. Ella era demasiado honesta, demasiado natural para este hombre asustado; demasiado alejada de su vida disciplinada. Después de todo, era una chica de pueblo; desordenada, histérica, cariñosa, revoltosa y traviesa como un chorlito. Adornaba su nido de trapos y joyas, era feliz a la luz del sol, chirriaba escandalosamente ante el peligro, fisgaba y curioseaba todo, se le olvidaba comer o se pasaba el día comiendo y cantaba contemplando el cielo rojizo del atardecer. Vivía la vida con desparpajo y desahogo, amaba al mundo y nunca hacía planes; tenía un ojo clínico para las maravillas de la naturaleza, pero era totalmente incapaz de mantener una casa ordenada. Lo que buscaba mi padre era algo bastante diferente – algo que ella nunca le podría dar, una vida perfectamente ordenada en el refugio de los suburbios, que fue lo que al final consiguió.

Los tres o cuatro años que vivió con mi padre fueron el sustento para el resto de sus días. Su felicidad durante aquella época le permitía a mi madre albergar la esperanza de su regreso. Hablaba de ello casi con asombro – no porque se hubiera terminado sino por el mero hecho de que hubiera sucedido.

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This translation received 3 votes

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