Translation examples
you will descend into the crypt once again: the inexorable rage you feel against the flock to which you once belonged and the pleasure of witnessing the humiliating mockery to which it will be subjected will warm your heart as you weave in and out of the stream of people heading down the dark corridor toward the nonrevolutionary, non-gold-covered little shrines: waddling along, furiously fanning themselves because of the heat, or pulling up the lapels of their fur coats as they shiver in misery from the cold, exchanging information in a hysterical tone of voice, powdering their faces, combing their hair, emitting giggles, piping trills, sighs, the members of the confraternity wander over to their hieratic sentinels, anxiously searching for their prince: their extreme state of agitation is the obvious response to the no less extreme repression of their tribe: a centrifugal force stronger than the law of universal gravitation has propelled them, like stray meteorites, into this remote, subterranean basilica: fallout from some terrible explosion, scattered by the winds to every corner of the compass, gathered together here by a trick of fate!: the flute solo magnetizes them and they dedicate their devotions to it: take a good look at them: their temerity knows no bounds: their antiphonies, communions, supplications are supplanted by the feverish rhythm of those who know that they have been sentenced to be executed at dawn and imbibe life in tiny little sips: more than four centuries of disgrace and affronts, prison, torture, the stake (ever since the rabid, rancorous decree of a frigid queen and the autos-da-fé of her grotesque progeny) have gone into the creation of the endemic tension that distinguishes them from the other activists of the confraternity: corpses whose death sentence in Hitler’s ghetto was commuted (faggots, a sackcloth sambenito, a gag, a white scapular, a dunce cap of flames), their frenzied provocation extends to the farthest corners of the earth: a centuries-old atavism impels them to indulge in melodramatic histrionics and hyperbole, as when they arrogantly invent out of whole cloth the character of the sad royal prisoner of Tordesillas, the victim of love dreamed up by a film director and played to the hilt by the actress whose name headed the list of screen credits: concealing with extravagant gestures the imperturbable immobility of her king: the handsome Flemish flamingo, with pure white feathers on its breast and blood-red ones on its back, shown in the colored illustrations of the usual schoolroom textbooks: a warm-blooded, vertebrate biped, possessed of a heart with auricles and ventricles, a good swimmer, and either nidiphilous or nidifugous: leaning with his back to the wall, like other members of his species, with visible, deliberate scorn: clearly discernible nasal orifices, bright piercing little eyes, a perhaps toothless mouth, a cigarette dangling from his beak: wings folded, long-shanked, he appears to be perched on one foot as he draws the other one up from time to time and indolently rests the sole of it on the chinks and cracks in the wall: and with the silent assent of the palace guards and courtiers, the nonboreal Aurora who plays the part of Juana la Loca multiplies her demential gestures, enveloped in an aura of admiration and pity for her tragicosplendid fate: her eyes glisten roguishly beneath the thin black veil, her thick makeup dissolves and runs down the corners of her lips in ridiculous trickles: pointing her index finger at them, she will murmur over and over, a thousand times, that the king is not dead, he has merely fallen asleep: with that most peculiar diction shared by the starry horde of her imitators, which, having fled the rigors of the country, now flourishes, a thousand leagues away, in remote and humble surroundings: history is eminently just at times: and Isabella the Catholic mother will witness, horror-stricken, the cruel spectacle: the vengeance of the execrated sodomite brother and his vilified friends: the scene is repeated daily, with no chronicler and no bard, and the absolute power of your antlike craftsmanship dazzles you: the ghostly soliloquy of mad women will avenge the memory of the king: brusquely, with a simple stroke of your pen, you will cancel out centuries of infamy 11
descenderás una vez más a la cripta: la inexorable saña contra tu antigua grey y el placer de asistir a su afrentosa burla alentarán tu teje y desteje por el tráfago oscuro del corredor hasta los no auríferos, no revolucionarios edículos: contoneándose, abanicándose exageradamente a causa del calor o alzando las solapas de sus fourrures con cuitado estremecimiento de frío, intercambiando información en lenguaje histérico, empolvándose el rostro, componiéndose el pelo, emitiendo risillas, gorgoritos, suspiros, los cofrades discurren junto a sus centinelas hieráticas buscando ansiosamente su príncipe: su agitación extrema es la respuesta obvia a la no menos extrema represión de la tribu: fuerza centrífuga superior a la ley de gravedad comunal los ha impelido tal meteoritos errantes a la remota, subterránea basílica: esquirlas de gaditana explosión esparcidas por la rosa de los vientos, convocadas allí por un azar del destino!: el solo de la flauta las imanta y a él consagran su culto: míralas bien: su temeridad menosprecia los límites: sus antífonas, comuniones, plegarias se suceden al ritmo febril de quienes se saben condenados al alba y aspiran a sorbos la vida: más de cuatro siglos de estigma y baldón, cárcel, tormento, pira (desde el feroz, rencoroso decreto de la reina frígida y los autos de fe de su grotesca prole) han configurado la endémica tensión que los distingue de los restantes activistas del gremio: cadáveres a plazo de hitleriano ghetto (haces de leña, sambenito, mordaza, escapulario blanco, coroza de llamas), su reto delirante se extiende a todas las jurisdicciones del mundo: atavismo secular les impulsa al énfasis teatral y la hipérbole cuando componen altivamente el personaje de la triste prisionera de Tordesillas: la juandeorduñesca víctima del amor: en la grandilocuente interpretación de la actriz que encabezaba el reparto de la película: celando con manirrota ostentación de ademanes la ausente inmovilidad de su rey: el hermoso flamenco de blanco plumaje en el pecho y rojo sangriento en la espalda reproducido en las láminas de colores del sólito manual escolar: bípedo, vertebrado, de sangre caliente, corazón con aurículas y ventrículos, buen nadador y, según se tercie, nidófilo o nidífugo: adosado al muro, como los de su laya, con visible, calculado desdén: orificios nasales, ojillos penetrantes y vivos, boca quizá sin dientes, cigarrillo en el estuche del pico: alirroto, zancudo, parece descansar sobre un pie mientras recoge a trechos el otro y apoya indolentemente la suela en los desconchados y grietas de la pared: y con el mudo asenso de guardas y cortesanos, la no boreal aurora multiplica los demenciales gestos, envuelta en el nimbo de admiración y piedad de su trágicoesplendente sino: sus ojos brillan de picardía bajo el sutil velo negro, el burdo maquillaje se despinta y escurre, irrisorio, por la comisura de los labios: elevando hasta éstos el índice desplegado, murmurará una y mil veces que el rey no ha muerto, que nada más se ha dormido: con esa peculiarísima dicción de la pléyade de imitadoras que, huyendo de los rigores del país, florece, a mil leguas, en el recato y humildad del paraje: la historia es justiciera a veces y la Católica madre contemplaría horrorizada el rudo espectáculo: el desquite del execrado hermano y sus vilipendiados amigos: la escena diariamente se renueva sin cronista ni bardo y el omnímodo poder de tu minúscula actividad artesanal te deslumbra: el soliloquio fantasmal de las locas vengará la memoria del rey: bruscamente, anularás centurias de infamia de un simple trazo de pluma 11
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