escenas de familia (IV)
mamá se paseaba con su panza nueva por la avenida: estaba hecha con un globo, porque los almohadones le resultaban muy pesados; la gente gritaba, recuerdo, y los aviones de guerra volaban muy bajo: dejaban caer cartas navideñas sobre el asfalto caliente; mamá lucía feliz, empujaba su changuito lleno de gaseosas y turrones y esquivaba las cartas sabiamente, como si avanzara por un campo minado; su larguísima barba le daba un aspecto venerable: parecía ocultar entre sus pelos el sucio secreto de la vida; mis hermanos, en cambio, se aburrían con torpeza: pisaban las cartas y explotaban y se convertían en seres horrendos: algunos con ocho patas, otros con lengua de serpiente o garras ensangrentadas, nos rugían y se lamían entre ellos y con cada carta que pisaban volvían a explotar, salvajes, y se transformaban en seres incluso más horribles: los ojos como espinas, la piel dura y rugosa como la corteza de los árboles, el vientre abierto de par en par, así corrían y saltaban y reptaban las tripas al viento, dejando un rastro de babosa; mamá reía y su risa era un abismo, fue la única vez que la vi reir: se le caían los dientes amarillos por el tabaco, y su risa era como una tos, como un ronquido a la madrugada; cuando llegamos a casa les cerró la puerta en la cara; estaba agitada y se agarraba la panza, creo que va a parir, grité; papá miraba la tele desde el sillón, afilaba los dientes de mamá con una piedra gris y agua, comía salchichas con la otra mano, nos están bombardeando, le dije, me mostró un diente afilado, amarillo por el tabaco, mamá va a parir, grité, me miró perplejo: hay cosas, dijo, que todavía no podés entender, cosas que hay que afilar todas las mañanas, sacarlas a que tomen el sol, envolverlas en un trapo, aplastarlas, hacerlas añicos; entonces mamá se metió la mano debajo del vestido y sacó un muñeco de papá noel, feliz navidad, dijo, y papá se tapó la cara y lloró, y mis hermanos rugieron tan fuerte que les sangraban los oídos: entonces el muñeco nos dio los obsequios que había traído: a mamá unos dientes blancos, a papá un taparrabos nuevo adornado con dibujos milenarios, a mi hermano un universo diferente con enormes baños de lujo, y huecos en los que caías una y otra vez, infinitamente, y a mí me guiño el ojo y me dijo: no tengas miedo, es como comenzar de nuevo, como que te crezcan plumas y puedas dar saltitos por el pasto mientras la sombra de un enorme pájaro te oscurece la vida y sus chirridos amenazadores te abren la grieta por la que escapás y volvés a escapar, una y otra vez, hasta que tu propio pico, ya grande, te impida atravesar el abismo
ENG - Translated with Deepl. The translation of poetry is very complex, therefore, in this case, it is not intended to have literary value, but only to serve as an orientation for reading.
family scenes (IV)
mom was walking around with her new belly down the avenue: it was made out of a balloon, because the cushions were too heavy for her; people were screaming, I remember, and the war planes flew very low: they dropped Christmas letters on the hot asphalt; mom looked happy, pushing her shopping cart full of sodas and nougat and dodged the letters wisely, as if advancing through a minefield; her very long beard gave her a venerable look: it seemed to hide among his hairs the dirty secret of life; my brothers, on the other hand, were bored with awkwardness: they stepped on the cards and exploded and turned into hideous beings: some with eight legs, others with snake tongues or bloody claws, they roared at us and licked each other and with each letter they stepped on they exploded again, wild, and transformed into even more horrible beings: eyes like thorns, their skin hard and rough like the bark of trees, their bellies wide open, so they ran and jumped and crawled, their guts in the wind, leaving a slug trail; mother laughed and her laughter was an abyss, it was the only time I ever saw her laugh: her teeth were falling out yellow from tobacco, and her laugh was like a cough, like a snore in the wee hours of the morning; when we got home she slammed the door in their faces; she was agitated and clutching her belly, I think she's going to give birth, I shouted; dad was watching tv from the couch, he was sharpening mom's teeth with a gray stone and water, eating sausages with the other hand, they're bombing us, I told him, he showed me a sharp tooth, yellow from the tobacco, mom is going to give birth, I shouted, he looked at me perplexed: there are things, he said, that you still can't understand, things that must be sharpened every morning, take them out to sunbathe, wrap them in a cloth, crush them, smash them to pieces; then mother put her hand under her dress and pulled out a santa claus figure, merry christmas, she said, and daddy covered his face and cried, and my brothers roared so loud that their ears bled: then the puppet gave us the presents he had brought: to mom some white teeth, to dad a new loincloth decorated with millenary drawings, to my brother a different universe with huge luxury toilets, and holes into which you fell over and over again, infinitely, and he winked at me and said to me: don't be afraid, it's like starting all over again, like growing feathers and you can hop through the grass while the shadow of a huge bird darkens your life and its threatening chirps open the crevice through which you escape and escape again and again, until your own large beak prevents you from crossing the abyss
La imagen fue creada con el modelo de inteligencia artificial Stable Diffusion. The image was created with the Stable Diffusion artificial intelligence model.
