a perla

Kino awakened in the near dark. The stars still shone and the day had drawn only a pale wash of light in the lower sky to the east. The roosters had been crowing for some time, and the early pigs were already beginning their ceaseless turning of twigs and bits of wood to see whether anything to eat had been overlooked. Outside the brush house in the tuna clump, a covey of little birds chittered and flurried with their wings.

Kino's eyes opened, and he looked first at the lightening square which was the door and then he looked at the hanging box where Coyotito slept. And last he turned his head to Juana, his wife, who lay beside him on the mat, her blue head-shawl over her nose and over her breasts and around the small of her back. Juana's eyes were open too. Kino could never remember seeing them closed when he awakened. Her dark eyes made little reflected stars. She was looking at him as she was always looking at him when he awakened.

Kino heard the little splash of morning waves on the beach. It was very good - Kino closed his eyes again to listen to his music. Perhaps he alone did this and perhaps all of his people did it. His people had once been great makers of songs so that everything they saw or thought or did or heard became a song. That was very long ago. The songs remained; Kino knew them, but no new songs were added. That does not mean that there were no personal songs. In Kino's head there was a song now, clear and soft, and if he had been able to speak of it, he would have called it the Song of the Family.

His blanket was over his nose to protect him from the dank air. His eyes flicked to a rustle beside him. It was Juana arising, almost soundlessly. On her hard bare feet she went to the hanging box where Coyotito slept, and she leaned over and said a little reassuring word. Coyotito looked up for a moment and closed his eyes and slept again.

Juana went to the fire pit and uncovered a coal and fanned it alive while she broke little pieces of brush over it.

Now Kino got up and wrapped his blanket about his head and nose and shoulders. He slipped his feet into his sandals and went outside to watch the dawn.

Outside the door he squatted down and gathered the blanket ends about his knees. He saw the specks of Gulf clouds flame high in the air. And a goat came near and sniffed at him and stared with its cold yellow eyes. Behind him Juanas fire leaped into flame and threw spears of light through the chinks of the brush-house wall and threw a wavering square of light out the door. A late moth blustered in to find the fire. The Song of the Family came now from behind Kino. And the rhythm of the family song was the grinding stone where Juana worked the corn for the morning cakes.

The dawn came quickly now, a wash, a glow, a lightness, and then an explosion of fire as the sun arose out of the Gulf. Kino looked down to cover his eyes from the glare. He could hear the pat of the corncakes in the house and the rich smell of them on the cooking plate.

The Pearl

John Steinbeck

1947 Penguin Books

A Perla

traducido por Benigno Fernández Salgado

Editorial Galaxia.

Kino espertou case ás escuras.As estrelas aínda relucían e o día a penas tendera un pálido manto de luz sobre a parte inferior do ceo, cara ó leste. Os gatos estiveran cantando un pedazo e os cochos, moi madrugadores, comenzaran xa a fozar entre os garabullos e achas de leña, para ver se algo de comer lles pasara antes desapercibido. Fóra da casopa de xestas, no plantío de chumbeiras, unha niñada de paxariños rechouchiaba mentres axitaban as ás.

Os ollos de Kino abríronseñ. Primeiro mirou o cadrado de luz da porta e logo o barrelo pendurado en que durmía Coyotito. Finalmente, volveu a cabeza para Juana, a súa muller, que permanecía deitada onda el, na esteira, co seu chal azul sobre o peito tapándolle o nariz e, por detrás, unha parte das costas. Os ollos de Juana xa estaban tamén abertos. Kino non se acordaba de llos ver nunca pechados ó espertar. Os seus escuros ollos eran coma dúas pequenas estrelas. E agora, ela, coma outras veces, estaba a miralo como sempre o miraba cando espertaba.

Kino sentía o suave murmurio das ondas matutinas da praia. Era mió agradable. Kino pechou os oolos outra vez para escoita-la súa música. Quizais soamente el fixera esto ou quizais tódolos seus o fixeran. No seu pobo houbera unha vez tan grandes creadores de cancións que podían converter en canto todo o que vían, pensaban, facían ou oían. Máis diso había moito tempo. As cancións permanecían; Kino sabíaas, pero ninguén engadira novas cancións. Non é que non tivesen cancións de seu. Na mente de Kino había agora unha canción clara e doce, á que el lle chamaría, se dela puidese falar, a Canción da Familia.

Estaba coa manta sobre o nariz para se proteger do aire húmido. Os seus ollos pestanexaron ó se mover algo ó seu carón. Era Juana que se erguía, case sen facer ruído. Cos seus fortes pés descalzos dirixiuse ó berce pendurado onde Coyotito durmía, inclinouse sobre el e susurroulle, como para aloumiñalo, unha palabra tenra. Por un instante, Coyotito mirou para riba, pechou os ollos e adormeceu de novo.

Juana foi cara ó lume, sacou do rescaldo unha brasa aínda viva e asoproulle para que prendese mentres lle partía e achegaba uns garabulliños.

Daquela, Kino ergueuse, puxo a manta sobre os ombros e envolveuna ó redor da cabeza e do nariz. Calzou as sandalias e saíu ve-lo amencer.

Xa fóra da porta, dobregouse e recolleu as puntas da manta sobre os xeonllos. No alto do ceo viu como se inflamaban os farrapos de nubes do Golfo. Unha cabra achegouse a el, e uliscándoo, mirouno cos seus ollos fríos e acastañados. Detrás del, o lume de Juana lapeaba e lanzaba músicas polas regandixas da parede ó tempo que no chan proxectaba un cadrado de luz ondulante fóra da porta. Unha tardía avelaíña entrou atraída polo lume. A Canción da Familia viña agora de dentro, de detrás de Kino. O ritmo desa melodía familiar procedía da moa de pedra na que Juana traballaba o millo para as tortas da mañá.

O amencer, agora, chegaría de contado: unha tenue pincelada, unha luz difusa, un luminoso roibén e por fin unha explosión de lume cando o sol se alzase sobre o Golfo. Kino baixou a vista para protexe-los ollos do resplendor. Sentía os golpiños das tortas de millo na casa e o rico arrecendo que viña da pedra de cociñar.