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Sample translations submitted: 1
Spanish to English: Estación de la mano- Julio Cortázar General field: Art/Literary
Source text - Spanish
Le puse nombres; me gustaba llamarla Dg, porque era un nombre sólo para pensarse. Incité su probable vanidad dejando anillos y pulseras sobre las repisas, espiando su actitud con secreta constancia. Varias veces creí que se adornaría con las joyas, pero ella las estudiaba dando vueltas en torno y tocarlas, a semejanza de una araña desconfiada; y aunque un día llegó a ponerse un anillo de amatista fue sólo por un instante y lo abandonó como si le quemara. Yo me apresuré a esconder las joyas en su ausencia y desde entonces me pareció que estaba más complacida.
Así declinaron las estaciones, unas esbeltas y otras con semanas ceñidas de luces violentas, sin que sus llamadas premiosas llegaran hasta nuestro ámbito. Todas las tardes volvía la mano, mojada con frecuencia por las lluvias otoñales, y la veía ponerse de espaldas sobre la alfombra, secarse prolijamente uno dedo con otro, a veces con menudos saltos de cosa satisfecha. En los atardeceres de frío su sombra se teñía de violeta. Yo colocaba entonces un brasero a mis pies y ella se acurrucaba y apenas bullía, salvo para recibir, displicente, un álbum con grabados o un ovillo de lana que le gustaba anudar y retorcer. Era incapaz, lo advertí pronto, de estarse largo rato quieta. Un día encontró una artesa de arcilla y se precipitó sobre la novedad; horas y horas modeló la arcilla mientras yo, de espaldas, fingía no preocuparme por su tarea. Naturalmente, modeló una mano. La dejé secar y la puse sobre el escritorio para probarle que su obra me agradaba. Pero era un error: como a todo artista, a Dg terminó por molestarle la contemplación de esa otra mano rígida y algo convulsa. Al retirarla de la habitación, ella fingió por pudor no haberlo advertido.
Mi interés se tornó bien pronto analítico. Cansado de maravillarme, quise saber; he ahí el invariable y funesto fin de toda aventura. Surgían las preguntas acerca de mi huésped: ¿Vegeta, siente, comprende, ama? Imaginé "tests", tendí lazos, apronté experimentos. Había advertido que la mano, aunque capaz de leer, jamás escribía. Una tarde abrí la ventana y puse sobre la mesa un lapicero, cuartillas en blanco, y cuando entró Dg me marché para dejarla libre de toda timidez. Por la cerradura vi que hacía sus paseos habituales y luego, vacilante, iba hasta el escritorio y tomaba el lapicero. Oí el arañar de la pluma, y después de un tiempo ansioso entré en el cuarto. Sobre el papel, en diagonal y con letra perfilada, Dg había escrito: "Esta resolución anula todas las anteriores hasta nueva orden".
Translation - English I gave her names. I liked to call her Dg, because it was a name just to be thought. I provoked her likely vanity by leaving rings and bracelets on the shelves, spying on her reaction with secret persistance. Many times I thought she would adorn herself with the jewelry, but she studied them, circling and handling them, like a suspicious spider. And although one day she did put on the amethyst ring, it was only momentarily and she left it behind like it had burned her. I promptly hid the jewels in her absence and from then on it seemed like she was happier.
Thus the seasons dwindled, some smoothly and others had weeks painted with violent lights, their pressing calls never reaching our domain. Every night the hand returned, often wet from fall rain, and I would watch her lie on the carpet and dry herself at length, one finger with another, at times with tiny shivers of satisfaction. In the chilly nightfalls her shadow was tinged with violet. I would put a radiator at my feet and she would curl up and barely move, except to contemptuously receive a book of etchings or a ball of yarn that she liked to twist and tie in knots. I quickly realized she was incapable of being still for long periods of time. One day she found a trough of clay and pounced on the new activity. For hours and hours she modeled the clay, while I, with my back turned, pretended not to concern myself with her task. Naturally, she crafted a hand. I let it dry and put it on the desk to show her I liked her work, but it was a mistake: like all artists, the contemplation of this other rigid, somewhat irregular hand ended up upseting her. I removed it from the room, and she pretended not to notice out of embarrassment.
My interest turned analytic quite quickly. Tired of marveling, I wanted to know; the invariable and fatal end of all adventure. Questions arose about my guest: Does she grow? Feel? Comprehend? Love? I imagined tests, set traps, and prepared experiments. I had noticed that the hand, although capable of reading, never wrote. One afternoon I opened the window and placed a pen and blank sheets of paper on the table, and when Dg entered, I left so she'd be free of inhibition. Through the keyhole I saw her make her normal rounds, and then go hesitantly to the desk and pick up the pen. I heard the scratch of the quill and after a restless few minutes I entered the room. On the paper, diagonally and in bubble letters, Dg had written: "This decision annuls all previous ones until further notice."
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Bachelor's degree - UW-Milwaukee
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Years of experience: 10. Registered at ProZ.com: Nov 2010.
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