Adoro los arroyos y la música que crean.
Y las corrientes, entre prados y cañas, antes
de que tengan oportunidad de hacerse arroyos.
Incluso pueden gustarme por su misterio. ¡Casi olvidaba
decir algo de la fuente!
¿Hay algo más maravilloso que un manantial?
Pero las grandes corrientes también me encantan.
Las bocas abiertas de los ríos cuando se unen al mar.
Los sitios donde las aguas se unen
a otras aguas. ¡Esos lugares permanecen
en mi mente como lugares sagrados!
Los adoro como otros hombres adoran a los caballos
o a las mujeres atractivas. Me pasa una cosa
con esta fría agua veloz.
Con sólo mirarla se me acelera la sangre
y se me eriza la piel. Puedo estar sentado
mirando estos ríos durante horas.
Ninguno es igual que otro.
Hoy tengo 45 años.
¿Me creería alguien si dijera
que una vez tuve 35?
¡Mi corazón vacío y seco de los 35 años!
Tuvieron que pasar cinco años más
antes de que volviera a latir.
Me llevará todo el tiempo en que me complazco esta tarde
antes de dejar mi puesto a la orilla del río.
Me gustan, adoro los ríos.
Los adoro hasta su misma fuente.
Adoro todo lo que me hace crecer.
Raymond Carver (EEUU, Clatskanie, Oregón, 1939-Port Angeles, Washington, 1988)
(Traducción de Mariano Antolín Rato)
Where Water Comes Together with Other Water
I love creeks and the music they made.
And rills, in glades and meadows, before
they have a chance to become creeks.
I may even love them best of all
for their secrecy. I almost forgot
to say something about the source!
Can anything be more wonderful than a spring?
But the big streams have my heart too.
And the places streams flow into rivers. The
open mouths of rivers
where they join the
sea. The places where water comes together
with other water. Those places stand out
in my mind like holy places.
But these coastal rivers!
I love them the way some men love horses
or glamorous women. I have a thing
for this cold swift water.
Just looking at it makes my blood run
and my skin tingle. I could sit
and watch these rivers for hours.
Not one of them like any other.
I’m 45 years old today.
Would anyone believe it if I said
I was once 35?
My heart empty and sere at 35!
Five more years had to pass
before it began to flow again.
I’ll take all the time I please this afternoon
before leaving my place alongside this river.
It pleases me, loving rivers.
Loving them all the way back
to their source.
Loving everything that increases me.
And rills, in glades and meadows, before
they have a chance to become creeks.
I may even love them best of all
for their secrecy. I almost forgot
to say something about the source!
Can anything be more wonderful than a spring?
But the big streams have my heart too.
And the places streams flow into rivers. The
open mouths of rivers
where they join the
sea. The places where water comes together
with other water. Those places stand out
in my mind like holy places.
But these coastal rivers!
I love them the way some men love horses
or glamorous women. I have a thing
for this cold swift water.
Just looking at it makes my blood run
and my skin tingle. I could sit
and watch these rivers for hours.
Not one of them like any other.
I’m 45 years old today.
Would anyone believe it if I said
I was once 35?
My heart empty and sere at 35!
Five more years had to pass
before it began to flow again.
I’ll take all the time I please this afternoon
before leaving my place alongside this river.
It pleases me, loving rivers.
Loving them all the way back
to their source.
Loving everything that increases me.
IMAGEN: El lecho de la cascadita Dri en Concordia, Entre Ríos, Argentina.
Fotografía de Cecilia Figueredo.
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