{"id":5413,"date":"2015-09-03T10:29:56","date_gmt":"2015-09-03T07:29:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/?p=5413"},"modified":"2015-09-03T10:32:37","modified_gmt":"2015-09-03T07:32:37","slug":"un-perro-ha-muerto-a-dog-has-died","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/?p=5413","title":{"rendered":"Un perro ha muerto \/ A dog has died"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Aspirinul\"<\/a><\/p>\n

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Un perro ha muerto<\/p>\n

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Mi perro ha muerto.<\/p>\n

Lo enterr\u00e9 en el jard\u00edn
\njunto a una vieja m\u00e1quina oxidada.<\/p>\n

All\u00ed, no m\u00e1s abajo,
\nni m\u00e1s arriba,
\nse juntar\u00e1 conmigo alguna vez.
\nAhora \u00e9l ya se fue con su pelaje,
\nsu mala educaci\u00f3n, su nariz ir\u00eda.
\nY yo, materialista que no cree
\nen el celeste cielo prometido
\npara ning\u00fan humano,
\npara este perro o para todo perro
\ncreo en el cielo, s\u00ed, creo en un cielo
\ndonde yo no entrar\u00e9, pero \u00e9l me espera
\nondulando su cola de abanico
\npara que yo al llegar tenga amistades.<\/p>\n

Ay no dir\u00e9 la tristeza en la tierra
\nde no tenerlo m\u00e1s por compa\u00f1ero,
\nque para m\u00ed jam\u00e1s fue un servidor.<\/p>\n

Tuvo hacia m\u00ed la amistad de un erizo
\nque conservaba su soberan\u00eda,
\nla amistad de una estrella independienre
\nsin m\u00e1s intimidad que la precisa,
\nsin exageraciones:
\nno se trepaba sobre mi vestuario
\nllen\u00e1ndome de pelos o de sarna,
\nno se frotaba contra mi rodilla
\ncomo otros perros obsesos sexuales.
\nNo, mi perro me miraba
\nd\u00e1ndome la atenci\u00f3n que necesito,
\nla atenci\u00f3n necesaria
\npara hacer comprender a un vanidoso
\nque siendo perro \u00e9l,
\ncon esos ojos, m\u00e1s puros que los m\u00edos,
\nperd\u00eda el tiempo, pero me miraba
\ncon la mirada que me reserv\u00f3
\ntoda su dulce, su peluda vida,
\nsu silenciosa vida,
\ncerca de m\u00ed, sin molestarme nunca,
\ny sin pedirme nada.<\/p>\n

Ay cu\u00e1ntas veces quise tener cola
\nandando junto a \u00e9l por las orillas
\ndel mar, en el invierno de Isla Negra,
\nen la gran soledad: arriba el aire
\ntraspasado de p\u00e1jaros glaciales,
\ny mi perro brincando, hirsuto, lleno
\nde voltaje marino en movimiento:
\nmi perro vagabundo y olfatorio
\nenarbolando su cola dorada
\nfrente a frente al Oc\u00e9ano y su espuma.<\/p>\n

Alegre, alegre, alegre
\ncomo los perros saben ser felices,
\nsin nada m\u00e1s, con el absolutismo
\nde la naturaleza descarada.<\/p>\n

No hay adi\u00f3s a mi perro que se ha muerco.
\nY no hay ni hubo mentira entre nosotros.<\/p>\n

Ya se fue y lo enterr\u00e9, y eso era todo.<\/p>\n

Pablo Neruda
\n…………………………………………….
\nA Dog Has Died<\/p>\n

My dog has died.
\nI buried him in the garden
\nnext to a rusted old machine.<\/p>\n

Some day I’ll join him right there,
\nbut now he’s gone with his shaggy coat,
\nhis bad manners and his cold nose,
\nand I, the materialist, who never believed
\nin any promised heaven in the sky
\nfor any human being,
\nI believe in a heaven I’ll never enter.
\nYes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
\nwhere my dog waits for my arrival
\nwaving his fan-like tail in friendship.<\/p>\n

Ai, I’ll not speak of sadness here on earth,
\nof having lost a companion
\nwho was never servile.
\nHis friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
\nwithholding its authority,
\nwas the friendship of a star, aloof,
\nwith no more intimacy than was called for,
\nwith no exaggerations:
\nhe never climbed all over my clothes
\nfilling me full of his hair or his mange,
\nhe never rubbed up against my knee
\nlike other dogs obsessed with sex.<\/p>\n

No, my dog used to gaze at me,
\npaying me the attention I need,
\nthe attention required
\nto make a vain person like me understand
\nthat, being a dog, he was wasting time,
\nbut, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
\nhe’d keep on gazing at me
\nwith a look that reserved for me alone
\nall his sweet and shaggy life,
\nalways near me, never troubling me,
\nand asking nothing.<\/p>\n

Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
\nas we walked together on the shores of the sea
\nin the lonely winter of Isla Negra
\nwhere the wintering birds filled the sky
\nand my hairy dog was jumping about
\nfull of the voltage of the sea’s movement:
\nmy wandering dog, sniffing away
\nwith his golden tail held high,
\nface to face with the ocean’s spray.<\/p>\n

Joyful, joyful, joyful,
\nas only dogs know how to be happy
\nwith only the autonomy
\nof their shameless spirit.<\/p>\n

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
\nand we don’t now and never did lie to each other.<\/p>\n

So now he’s gone and I buried him,
\nand that’s all there is to it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pablo Neruda<\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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