domingo, 16 de marzo de 2014

Historias perdidas: The bamboo cane (La caña de bambú)

¡Buenos días! Esta vez os traigo una nueva sección, van a ser relatos independientes y quizás microrrelatos (la mayoría supongo que serán del colegio, si no tengo que empezar a hacer nuevos jeje xP). Lo siento, pero no tengo mucho tiempo, últimamente escribo poco y me dedico principalmente a la novela o la poesía :S.

El que traigo hoy es en inglés (qué queréis que os diga, lo hice para inglés xD). Si tenéis algún problema por la comprensión o algo perdonadme, pedidme que os traduzca lo que sea y si no os lo traduzco entero, no pasa nada :3

The bamboo cane
As she came closer, the temperature dropped, trying to freeze the last bit of strength in her body. Due to the cloudy atmosphere, she was unable to see too many details, yet she could distinguish the small silhouettes of the seagulls flying above. There were no more than six people on the whole beach.

Once she arrived, she just stood there, her hands in her pockets. The wind seemed determined to blow her away; the cry of a seagull made her jump, as if the whole beach accused her, wanting her to go away from its secrets. And then an empty, dreadful and threatening silence. When she approached the port, though, the chilling laugh of the children playing there danced in her head - God, how she hated those little beasts. They ran around over the dull, grey sand, under the vigilant eye of their mothers, so noisy, so dependent.

Samantha watched them in silence, feeling the icy breeze carelessly bite every bit of skin that wasn't covered. How could they be so painfully energetic? Although she was far away, she could almost see the women's faces - dark marks under their eyes, tired expressions, smiles that tried to cover the lack of sleep. They had given their life away just to bring up small, malicious creatures which would only cause them worries, worries, worries. Their tiny feet crushed against the sand, one two, one two, so stridently wild, so rhythmically irritating.

A slender, quiet figure near the shore caught her attention. There was a boy there, kneeled over the wet floor; he couldn't be more than nine years old, dressed with a light shirt and old, soaked trousers. He was so miraculously and awkwardly peaceful, gently prickling the sand with a thin stick, that she felt stunned. Then he seemed to notice her gaze and turned - his big, brown eyes wide with surprise, his cobalt hair falling all over his face, his cheeks coloured by the cold air that came from the wide, infinite sea. His guilty expression, far from any bad intent, possibly proved that he was doing something he shouldn't; most probably escaping from under his mother's wing, for when Sam looked around, there didn't seem to be anyone worried about him.

There was something so wrong with that fragile child, standing gently against the howling wind, like a bamboo cane in the middle of a reckless storm. He was out of place, all alone, messing with the waves while the other children played and laughed and shrieked, as savagely as she had always remembered. How did he come to exist, so still, so patient in the middle of that chaos, awakening her curiosity instead of her disgust - that she didn't know; but then, she guessed she would have to discover.

*Gracias a mi profesor por corregirlo jejeje xD* Básicamente es una descripción porque era lo que nos pedían, si queréis que escriba un relato más largo a partir de esto, pedídmelo y ya está, que no muerdo (solo mordí a mi hermana una vez de pequeña xD lol) El caso, que así tengo algo de lo que escribir en esta sección... si os gusta, claro :P

¡Un besazo!

2 comentarios:

  1. Me ha gustado, Por cierto, ya ha salido el nombre de la comentarista de la semana….

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    1. ok, lo miro :) y graciaaas :D
      un besazoo!! ^-^

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