Demetrio no pudo explicarse cómo había llegado hasta aquí...
Demetrio could not explain to himself how he got here...
Casi ni recordaba el tortuoso trayecto por las alcantarillas anegadas del arroyo Maldonado ni el chapotear de sus pies en el agua nauseabunda. Solo la imágenes de la milonga del Club Fulgor ocupaban sus pensamientos y cómo El Duende le había señalado esa puerta roja, desvencijada, justo al lado de la escalera que iba hacia el sótano y a ese sendero profundo y oscuro que lo había transportado hasta este lugar desconocido.
He hardly remembered the tortuous journey through the flooded sewers of the Maldonado underground stream, nor the dabbling of his feet in the nauseating waters. Only the images of the milonga of Club Fulgor occupied his thoughts and how El Duende had pointed out the rickety red door, just next to the stairs going to the basement and to the deep and dark path that had transported him to this unknown place.
Miríadas de libros en voluptuosas estanterías rebosaban su contenido obscenamente.... Todos ahí frente a él, ávidos de ser leídos.... todos implorando tristemente ser leídos. Demetrio podía palpar esas incómodas y penetrantes miradas en su nuca, la misma sensación que habia sentido en sus años jóvenes al entrar a esas milongas despiadadas de Puente Alsina al sur. Duro precio que siempre tuvo que pagar, como todo excelente bailarín, para luego retomar esa bien conocida rutina de seguir con la mirada perdida, vidriosa, apagada.
Myriads of books on voluptuous shelves were fully and obscenely showing its contents .... All there before him, eager to be read.... all sadly imploring to be read. Demetrio could feel those uncomfortable and piercing glances on his neck, the same feeling he had felt in his younger years when entering those ruthless milongas south of Puente Alsina. Like all extraordinary dancers that was the high price he always had to pay, to then retake that well-known routine of keep going forward with that lost, glassy and dully look.
Those books, skinny, fat, malnourished or lush, all had that pungent smell of the unused objects, even none of its covers or sheets were tattered or marked and many pitifully sporting the editor's protective cellophane.
So many stories never revisited, so many feelings never explored, so many wasted sensations among those endless galleries. Demetrio never had been in such a place, nor in his strangest dreams had been exposed in this way. Was this the library denied by Men? It was he the first man to step in?
But there was a book, the only one that was not looking at him, smugly deposited on the shelf at his front, indifferent, distant, distracted. It was the only not indecently looking for him. Was old, an antique, tousled, faded... so, what was doing here?
Contra todos sus códigos, no pudo más y estiró la mano… esa mano que se negaba a asirlo hasta que cuidadosamente lo desencaja de su lugar y comenzando a leer su título y repasar sus páginas un frío de incertidumbre le recorre su cuerpo. Apretados en sus folios estaban los queridos momentos de su vida de muchacho adolescente, allá en las primeras décadas del siglo, en las milongas de rompe y raja de los barrios dormidos.
Against all his códigos, he broke down and handed out his left hand... the same hand that first refused to grab the book, and carefully disengaged it from its place and when started to read the title and devouring its pages, a sense of uncertainty rushed throughout his body... Gritted in the folios were the cherished moments of his life as a young man, back in the early decades of the past century at the brave and dangerous milongas in the asleep neighborhoods of the outskirts of the city.
His face lit up when he saw again what had happened so long ago....
El abrazo de ese tango fue casi mortífero (raro, pensó él siendo el último de la tanda) era como si la posibilidad de ser sorprendido lo hubiera tomado con la guardia baja y por la espalda. Casi no se dió cuenta que era un Biagi, marcado, casi alegre pero al mismo tiempo con la profundidad justa para perderse en los interminables laberintos de Ella.
The tango embrace was almost deadly (rare... he thought, being this the last tango of the tanda). Everyhting was as if the possibility of being surprised had taken him off guard and by the back. Almost he did not realize it was a Biagi, marked, almost cheerful but at the same time with the right depth for him to get strayed in Her endless labyrinths.
Repentinamente el hechizo se acaba, la cortina, chillona, invade el espacio y su alma, para darse cuenta de golpe que inexorablemente el tiempo expiraba, y tanto por decir..... Eran 40 segundos que se descontaban galopantes, descontrolados, inflexibles...
Suddenly the spell ends, the squeaky cortina invades reality and his soul, to suddenly realize that inexorably the time expired. And so much to be said! Rampant 40 seconds with an uncontrolled and inflexible run!
Y él quería quedarse ahí, ahí....
And he only wanted to stay there, there....
La columna de la izquierda fue la salvaguardia de todas las miradas que querían traspasarlos.
The column on the left was a safeguarding from all the gazes trying to prick them...
He only remembered her face... asking, gesticulating, her blue eyes that went around and around, her tight smile, contorted, her fluttering hair, those beads of sweat scattered throughout the skin, and her lips saying intelligible things.... things that no longer mattered... In reality nothing, nothing mattered...
He suddenly feels Her stepping into him to say: you are the complicated, the one very complicated...
At that point Demetrio's mind was already elsewhere, he had thought why he had this is done, coming to here, to this milonga he hated, just for her, just because... Her.
It was like swimming in a still oily lake, to watch what was about to happen.... Without words, she was saying goodbye and deciding not to be saved. But, was he the salvation? He did not know anymore.
La vida ahora habia pasado a tener el sabor de última tanda, pero no de la milonga, sino de la última de sus vidas....
Life had gone now to have thelast tanda's flavor, but not of the milonga... the last tanda of their lives....
Terminar así, en un vals no era lo mejor pensó... tal vez un tango de Pugliese con toda su negrura (lo perfecto hubiera sido El Adiós) pero era mejor así, total ya no había más esperanzas, ni para el recuerdo...
He thought why to end like this, in a vals, definitely was not the best finale... maybe preferable with a Pugliese tango with all its blackness (El Adiós would have been perfect ) but... But it was better this way... So far was no hope any longer, neither for a memory...
El tango se tomó revancha de ellos... intentando este final tan extraño para una relación tan convulsionada...
And Tango took revenge of them... performing this unusual ending for such a troubled relationship...
Y Demetrio, así, se encontró con todos los recuerdos encapsulados entre las cuatro paredes mágicas de ese libro encantado, y bajo su luz todas las ilusiones reaparecieron intactas, incluso el alma de ella, voló de nuevo sobre esta realidad...
And Demetrio, consequently, found all the lost memories encapsulated within the enchanted walls of the magic book, and under its lights all the dreams reappeared intact, even Her soul, flew back to the scenery...
A pesar de haber estado solo esta última parte de su pobre vida milonguera y gris, se sintió pacificado al ver que todos las emociones estaban intactas y no se habían perdido en la vorágine de la existencia como había pensado tantas veces.
Despite being lonely the latter part of his poor and gray milonguera life, he sensed peace to see that all emotions were intact and had not been missed in the maelstrom of existence... as he had thought many times.
Y quedó registrado en los anales de la Biblioteca Olvidada que el anciano bibliotecario encontró a Demetrio, muerto sobre el suelo pulcro y pulido del infinito corredor del ala Este, junto a la estantería 1532, sujetando aquel libro incunable que pensaron estaba perdido desde hacía 136 años.
And it was recorded in the annals of the Forgotten Library that the old librarian found Demetrio, dead over the neat and polished floor of the infinite corridor of the East Wing, next to shelf 1532, holding that incunabulum everyone thought was lost 136 years ago.
Demetrio wore an enigmatic grin of immense happiness. He was there in search of that.
© Luigi Seta
Photo Credits / Créditos de Foto Bibliotecas:
Hans W. MüllerLibrería El Ateneo (Ex Cine Teatro Grand Splendid) - Buenos Aires
Premio RIBBON - Federación Argentina de Fotografía
IV Salon Internacional FAF (2014)
Unknown Photographer
Old Cincinnati Main Library (1874)
J.W. Laughlin, Architect
Tango Nada Más (D´Arienzo - Rubistein)
O.T. Misteriosa Buenos Aires
Canta Eliana Sosa
Hotel Claridge
Buenos Aires, 2014
Vals Dichas Que Viví
Sexteto Milonguero
Canta Javier Di Ciriaco
Milonga Lugo im Schlachthof
Munich, 2014
Tango El Adios
Orquesta Osvaldo Pugliese
Canta Jorge Maciel
Buenos Aires, 1965
1 comment:
este post es realmente interesante, muy buena pagina. saludos
Post a Comment