y de repente
No era la primera vez que escuchaba esa historia, pero cuando ella la contó, pareció ser la original. El resto la había copiado. Él le había dicho que la quería pero ella no sintió lo mismo, y no lo tomó en cuenta. Hasta que terminó ese verano y ella debió volver al internado. Desde la frías noches esa voz lejana pidiéndole un beso se hizo más fuerte. Creció y después de dos semanas no podía evitar escuchar esa voz mezclada en cada pensamiento. A pesar que el semestre se hizo interminable, logró soportarlo. Cuando volvió las cosas habían cambiado. El invierno desataba su blanco, y ella temió lo peor. Aun así, deseó con ansias que el mantuviera su palabra. Y lo hizo.
Y esa fue la tarde más fría y feliz de su vida. Sus besos eran cálidos, su mano la arrastraba suavemente por la nieve. El fue su príncipe, su Principito.
La noche avanzó con dolorosa calma, igual que ahora. Ahora soy yo el del internado. Ahora me hace sentido la letra de las canciones. Como un maleficio, los objetos que me recuerdan a ella cobran vida y me gritan su nombre día a día.
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It was not the first time I heard that story, but when she told it, it seemed to be the original. The rest had copied it. He had told her he loved her but she did not feel the same, and did not take him into account. Until that summer ended and she had to return to boarding school. From the cold nights that distant voice asking for a kiss grew stronger. It kept growing and after two weeks she could not help but to hear that voice mixed in every thought. Although the semester seemed endless, she managed to endure. When she returned things had changed. Winter unleashed its white blanket, and she feared the worst. Still, eagerly desired that he kept his word. And he did.
And that was the coldest and happiest afternoon of her life. His kisses were warm, he dragged his hand gently on the snow. He was her prince, her Little Prince.
The night progressed with painful calm, just like now does. Now I'm on the boarding school. Now it makes sense to me the lyrics of the songs. As a curse, the objects that remind me of her come alive and whisper her name. Every day.
Y esa fue la tarde más fría y feliz de su vida. Sus besos eran cálidos, su mano la arrastraba suavemente por la nieve. El fue su príncipe, su Principito.
La noche avanzó con dolorosa calma, igual que ahora. Ahora soy yo el del internado. Ahora me hace sentido la letra de las canciones. Como un maleficio, los objetos que me recuerdan a ella cobran vida y me gritan su nombre día a día.
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It was not the first time I heard that story, but when she told it, it seemed to be the original. The rest had copied it. He had told her he loved her but she did not feel the same, and did not take him into account. Until that summer ended and she had to return to boarding school. From the cold nights that distant voice asking for a kiss grew stronger. It kept growing and after two weeks she could not help but to hear that voice mixed in every thought. Although the semester seemed endless, she managed to endure. When she returned things had changed. Winter unleashed its white blanket, and she feared the worst. Still, eagerly desired that he kept his word. And he did.
And that was the coldest and happiest afternoon of her life. His kisses were warm, he dragged his hand gently on the snow. He was her prince, her Little Prince.
The night progressed with painful calm, just like now does. Now I'm on the boarding school. Now it makes sense to me the lyrics of the songs. As a curse, the objects that remind me of her come alive and whisper her name. Every day.
posted by Denis Parra at 12:15 PM
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