Traducción de "The three farmers"

1 The Three Farmers

Down in the valley there were three farms. The owners of these farms had done well. They were rich men. They were also nasty men. All three of them  were about as nasty and mean as any men you could meet. Their names were Farmer Boggis, Farmer Bunce and Farmer Bean.

            Boggis was a chicken farmer. He kept thousand of chickens. He was enormously fat. This was because he ate three boiled chickens smothered with dumplings every day for breakfast, lunch and supper.

            Bunce was a duck-and-goose farmer. He kept thousands of ducks and geese. He was a kind of pot-bellied dwarf. He was so short his chin would have been underwater in the shallow end of any swimming-pool in the world. His food was doughnuts and goose-livers. He mashed the livers into a disgusting paste and then stuffed the paste into the doughnuts. This diet gave him a tummy-ache and a beastly temper.

            Bean was a turkey-and-apple farmer. He kept thousands of turkeys in an orchard full of apple trees. He never ate any food at all. Instead, he drank gallons of strong cider which he made from the apples in the orchard. He was as thin as a pencil and the cleverest of them all.

            Boggis and Bunce and Bean

            One fat, one short, one lean.

            These horrible crooks

            So different in looks

            Were none the less equally mean.

            That is what the children round about used to sing when they saw them.

2 Mr Fox

On a hill above the valley there was a wood.

            In the wood there was  a huge tree.

            Under the tree there was a hole.

            In the hole lived Mr Fox and Mrs Fox and their four Small Foxes.

            Every evening as soon as it got dark, Mr Fox would say to Mrs Fox, ‘Well, my darling, what shall it be this time? A plump chicken from Boggis? A duck or a goose from Bunce? Or a nice turkey from Bean?’ And when Mrs Fox had told him what she wanted, Mr Fox  would creep down into the valley in  the darkness of the night and help himself.

            Boggis and Bunce and Bean knew very well what was going on, and it made them wild with rage. They were not men who liked to give anything away. Less still did they like anything to be stolen from them. So every night each of them would take his shotgun and hide in a dark place somewhere on his own farm, hoping to catch the robber.

            But Mr Fox was too clever for them. He always approached a farm with the wind blowing in his face, and this mean that if any man were lurking in the shadows ahead, the wind would carry the smell of that man to Mr Fox’s nose from far away. Thus, if Mr Boggis was hiding behind his Chicken House Number One, Mr Fox would smell him out from fifty yards off and quickly change direction, heading for Chicken House Number Four at the other end of the farm.

            ‘Dang and blast that lousy beast!’ cried Boggis.

‘I’d like to rip his guts out!’ said Bunce.

‘He must be killed!’ cried Bean.

‘But how?’ said Boggis. ‘How on earth can we catch the blighter?’

Bean picked his nose delicately with a long finger. ‘I have a plan,’ he said.

‘You’ve never had a decent plan yet,’ said Bunce.

‘Shup up and listen,’ said Bean. ‘Tomorrow night we will all hide just outside the hole where the fox lives. We will wait there until he comes out. Then . . . Bang! Bang-bang-bang.’

‘Very clever,’ said Bunce. ‘But first we shall have to find the hole.’

‘My dear Bunce, I’ve already found it,’ said the crafty Bean. ‘It’s up in the wood on the hill. It’s under a huge tree. . .’

1 Los tres granjeros

Abajo, en el valle, había tres granjas. Los dueños de estas granjas las habían hecho prosperar. Eran ricos. Eran también tacaños. Todos ellos eran tan crueles y miserables como ningún hombre que pudiera encontrarse. Sus nombres eran granjero Boggis, granjero Bunce y granjero Bean.

Boggis era un granjero de pollos. Tenía miles. Era gordísimo y lo era porque comía tres pollos cocidos estofados con pudín todos los días en el desayuno, en la comida y en la cena.

Bunce era un granjero de patos y gansos. Tenía miles de patos y gansos. Era una clase de enano panzón. Era tan chaparro que su barbilla hubiera estado bajo el agua en la parte poco profunda de cualquier alberca en el mundo. Su comida consistía en rosquitas fritas con hígados de ganso. Mezclaba los hígados en una pasta desagradable y entonces rellenaba las rosquillas fritas con la pasta. Esta dieta le dio un dolor de barriga y un carácter irascible, brutal.

Bean era un granjero de pavos y manzanas. Tenía miles de pavos en un huerto lleno de árboles de manzanas. Nunca comía cualquier alimento, en su lugar bebía galones de cidra fuerte que sacaba de las manzanas de su huerto. Era tan delgado como un lápiz y era el más listo de todos ellos.

Boggis y Bunce y Bean

Uno gordo, uno chaparro, uno delgado.

Estos estafadores horribles

Tan diferentes en apariencia

Ninguno era, igualmente, el menos miserable.

Esto es lo que los niños a su alrededor acostumbraban cantar cuando los veían.

2 El señor Zorro

Sobre una colina arriba del valle estaba un bosque.

            En el bosque, había un árbol enorme.

            Bajo el árbol, había un agujero.

En el agujero, vivían el señor Zorro, la señora Zorra y sus cuatro zorritos.

Cada tarde tan pronto como obscurecía, el señor Zorro decía a la señora Zorra: ‘Bien mi amor, ¿Qué tendremos esta vez? ¿Un pollo gordo de  Boggis? ¿Un pato o un ganso de Bunce? O, ¿un pavo fino de Bean?’ Y cuando la señora Zorra le decía lo que quería, el señor Zorro andando a gatas bajaba al valle en la oscuridad de la noche y se servía a su gusto.

Boggis, Bunce y Bean sabían muy bien lo que pasaba y esto los hacía violentos y rabiosos. No eran hombres a quienes les agradara desprenderse de algo. Y menos, todavía, que los robaran. Así, cada noche, cada uno de ellos tomaba su fusil y se escondían en un lugar oscuro, en algún sitio de su propia granja, esperando capturar al ladrón.

Pero el señor Zorro era muy listo para ellos, siempre se acercaba a una granja con el viento soplándole en la cara y esto significaba que si cualquier hombre estaba escondido en las sombras delante de él, el viento acarreaba desde lejos el olor de aquel hombre hacia la nariz del zorro. Así, si el señor Boggis estaba escondido detrás de sus Casa de Pollos Número Uno, el señor Zorro lo olía a cincuenta yardas  y con rapidez cambiaba de dirección, adelantándose a la Casa de Pollos Número Cuatro en el otro confín de la granja.

‘¡Maldición y maldición que bestia infame!’, gritaba Boggis.

‘¡Me gustaría arrancarle sus entrañas!’, decía Bunce.

‘¡Tenemos que matarlo!’ exclamaba Bean.

‘¿Pero cómo?’, dijo Boggis. ‘¿Cómo, en la tierra, podemos capturar al bribón?’

Bean escarbó su nariz delicadamente con su dedo largo. ‘Tengo un plan,’ dijo.

‘Nunca tuviste un plan decente todavía,’ dijo Bunce.

‘Callen y escuchen,’ dijo Bean. ‘Mañana en la noche nos esconderemos justo fuera del agujero donde el señor Zorro vive. Esperaremos ahí hasta que salga. Entonces. . . ¡bang! Bang-bang-bang.’

‘Muy listo,’ dijo Bunce. ‘Pero primero tendremos que encontrar el agujero.’

‘Mi estimado Bunce, ya lo encontré,’ dijo el astuto Bean. ‘Está arriba en el bosque sobre la colina. Está debajo de un árbol enorme. . .’

Questionnaire

Where were the tree farms? Down the valley. Who were the owners of these farms? They were rich men and also nasty men. Were they as nasty and mean as any man you could meet? They were worst men as any men you could meet. What were their names? Their names were Farmer Boggis, Farmer Bunce and Farmer Bean.

What did Boggis do for his living? Boggis bred chickens. How was his appearance? He was enormously fat. Why was he so fat? Because he ate three boiled chickens smothered with dumplings every day for breakfast, lunch and supper.

What did Bunce do for his living? Bunce raised ducks and geese. How many ducks and geese did he have? He had thousands of ducks and geese. How was his appearance? He was very short. What did he eat? His food was doughnuts and goose-livers. How did he cook his food? He mashed the livers and then stuffed the paste into the doughnuts. What happens with his diet? It gave him a tummy-ache and a beastly temper.

What did Bean do for his living? He bred turkeys and he kept and orchard of apple trees. How many turkeys did he have in his orchard? He kept thousands of turkeys. What does Bean eat? He doesn’t eat any food; instead, he drank gallons of strong cider. How was his appearance? He was as thin as a pencil. Was he clever? He was the cleverest of them all.

Who was fat? Boggis.

Who was short? Bunce.

Who was lean? Bean.

Who were they? They were horrible crooks.

Were they different? Yes, because their appearances.

Were they means? Yes, because they were the worst of all men.

What did the children sing when they saw them? Boggis and Bunce and Bean. . .

Questionnaire

2 Mr Fox

Where was there a wood? It was on a hill above the valley. What was there in the wood? There was a huge tree. What was under the tree? There was a hole. Who lived in the hole? Mr Fox and Mrs Fox and their four Small Foxes lived in the hole.  What did Mr Fox do every evening? Mr Fox asked Mrs Fox , what  shall it be this time? Mrs Fox waited Mr Fox’s offerings.  What did Mr Fox offer to Mrs Fox? Mr Fox offered a chicken from Boggis, a duck or a goose from Bunce, a Turkey from Bean. What did Mr Fox do after Mrs Fox told him what she wanted? Mr Fox crept down into the valley to help himself.

Did Boggis, Bunce and Bean know what was going on? They knew very well what was going on. How did they react? They reacted with rage. Did they enjoy giving anything away? No, they were no men who liked to give anything away. They didn’t like to be stolen. What did they do every night? They took their shotgun, hoping to catch the robber.

Was Mr Fox clever? Yes, he was clever than Boggis, Bunce and Bean. How Mr Fox approached a farm? He walked with the wind blowing in his face. What did happen when a man was lurking in the shadows? The wind would carry the smell of that man to Mr Fox’s nose. What did Mr Fox do when there was a man? Mr Fox would smell him out from fifty yards off and he changed direction, heading for the other end of the farm.

What did Boggis cry? They cried ‘Dang and Blast that lousy beast!’ What did Bunce say? ‘I’d like to rip his guts out? What did Bean cry? He must be killed!’

What was the question of Boggis? How are we going to catch him? Bean answered ‘I have a plan.’ What did Bunce say? He said ‘You’ve never had a decent plan yet. What was Bean’s answer? Shup up and listen, tomorrow night we will hide just outside the hole where the fox lives, and then . . . Bang! Bang-bang-bang. What did Bunce say? He said ‘but first, we shall have to find the hole. What did bean answer? I’ve already found it. Where was the hole? It’s up in the wood on the hill under a huge tree.

3 the shooting

‘Well, my darling,’ said Mr Fox. ‘What shall it be tonight?’

‘I think we’ll have duck tonight, ‘said Mrs Fox.

‘Bring us two fat ducks, if you please. One for you and me, and one for the children.’

‘Ducks it shall be!’ said Mr Fox. ‘Bunce’s best!’

‘Now do be carefull,’ said Mrs Fox.

‘My darling,’ said Mr Fox, ‘I can smell those goons a mile away. I can even smell one from the other. Boggis gives off a filthy stink of rotten chicken-skins. Bunce reeks of goose-livers, and as for Bean, the fumes of apple cider hang around him like poisonous gases.’

‘Yes, but just don’t get careless,’ said Mrs Fox. ‘You know they’ll be waiting for you, all three of them.’

‘Don’t you worry about me,’ said Mr Fox. ‘I’ll see you later.’

But Mr Fox would not have been quite so cocky had he known exactly where the three farmers were waiting at that moment. They were just outside the entrance to the hole, each one crouching behind a tree with his gun loaded. And what is more, they had chosen their positions very carefully, making sure that the wind was not blowing from them towards the fox’s hole. In fact, it was blowing in the opposite direction. There was no chance of them being ‘smelled out.’

Mr Fox crept up the dark tunnel to the mouth of his hole. He pocked his long handsome face out into the night air and sniffed once.

He moved an inch or two forward and stopped.

He sniffed again. He was always especially careful when coming out from his hole.

He inched forward a little more. The half of his body was now in the open.

His black nose twitched from side to side, sniffing and sniffing for the scent of danger. He found none, and he was just about to go trotting forward into the wood when he heard or thought he heard a tiny noise, a soft rustling sound, as though a patch of dry leaves.

Mr Fox flattened his body against the ground and lay very still, his ears pricked. He waited a long time, but he heard nothing more.

‘It most have been a field-mouse,’ he told himself, ‘or some other small animal.’

He crept a little further out of the hole. . . then further still. He was almost right out in the open now. He took a last careful look around. The wood was murky and very still. Somewhere in the sky the moon was shining.

Just then, his sharp night-eyes caught a glint of something bright behind a tree not for away. It was a small silver speck of moonlight shining on a polished surface. Mr Fox lay still, watching it. What on earth was it? Now it was moving. It was coming up and up. . . Great heavens! It was the barrel of a gun! Quick as a whip, Mr Fox jumped back into his hole and at that same instant the entire wood seemed to explode around him. Bang-bang! Bang-bang! Bang-bang!

The smoke from the three guns floated upward in the night air. Boggis and Bunce and Bean came out from behind their trees and walked toward the hole.

‘Did we get him?’ said Bean.

One of them shone a flashlight on the hole, and there on the ground, in the circle of light, half in and half out of the hole, lay the poor tattered bloodstained remains of. . . a fox’s tail. Bean picked it up. ‘We got the tail but we missed the fox,’ he said, tossing the thing away.

‘Dang and blast!’ said Boggis. ‘We shot too late. We should have let fly the moment he poked his head out.’

‘He won’t be poking it out again in a hurry,’ Bunce said.

Bean pulled a flash from his pocket and took a swig of cider. Then he said, ‘It’ll take three days at least before he gets hungry enough to come out again. I’m not sitting around here waiting f or that. Let’s dig him out.’

‘Ah,’ said Boggis. ‘Now you’re talking sense. We can dig him out in a couple hours. We know he’s there.’

‘I reckon there’s a whole family of them down that hole,’ Bunce said.

‘Then we’ll have the lot,’ said Bean. ‘Get the shovels!’

3 The shooting

    El tiroteo

¡Bueno!, mi amada mujercita, dijo el señor Zorro. ¿Qué tendremos esta noche?

            ¿Qué tendremos esta noche? Creo que tendremos pavo esta noche, dijo la señora Zorro.

            Nos puedes traer dos patos gordos, por favor. Uno para ti y para mí y uno para los niños.

            Tendremos patos, dijo el señor Zorro. Los mejores son los de Bunce.

            Ahora se cuidadoso, dijo la señora Zorro.

            ¡Bueno!, mi amada mujercita, dijo el señor Zorro, puedo oler esos imbéciles a una milla de distancia. Y aún puedo distinguirlos por el olor. Boggis emite un hedor asqueroso de pieles de pollo podrido. Bunce hecha humo de hígados de ganso y en cuanto a Bean, los vapores de cidra de manzana lo rodean como gases venenosos.

            Sí, pero solamente no seas descuidado, dijo la señora Zorro. Sabes que te están esperando los tres.

            No te preocupes por mí, dijo el señor Zorro. Te veré al rato.

            Pero el señor Zorro no habría estado tan presumido si hubiera sabido donde lo estaban esperando, en aquel momento, los tres granjeros. Se encontraban justamente fuera de la entrada del agujero. Cada uno agazapado detrás de un árbol con su fusil cargado. Y, además, habían escogido sus posiciones muy cuidadosamente, asegurándose que el viento no estuviera soplando desde ellos hacia el agujero del zorro. De hecho, estaba soplando en la dirección opuesta. No había ninguna posibilidad de que fueran olidos.

            El señor Zorro trepó por el túnel oscuro a la boca de su agujero, asomó su larga cara hermosa fuera del agujero en el aire nocturno y olfateó una vez más.

            Se movió hacia adelante una o dos pulgadas y se detuvo, olfateó otra vez. Siempre era especialmente cuidadoso cuando salía de su agujero, se adelantó un poco más. La mitad delantera de su cuerpo ahora estaba en lo descubierto.

            Su negra nariz volteaba de un lado a otro, oliendo, oliendo el indicio del peligro. No encontró ninguno y estaba a punto de salir trotando al bosque cuando escuchó o pensó haber escuchado un ruidito, un suave sonido crujiente como si alguien hubiera movido un pie tan delicadamente sobre un pedazo de hojas secas.

            El señor Zorro aplanó su cuerpo contra el piso y permaneció muy quieto, sus oídos se aguzaban, espero un largo rato, pero no escuchó nada más.

            ‘Debe haber sido un ratón de campo,’ pensó o algún otro animalito.

            Se arrastró un poco más fuera del agujero. . . entonces además de eso se quedó inmóvil, ahora estaba casi afuera en lo descubierto, echó una última mirada cuidadosa a su alrededor. El bosque estaba sombrío y muy tranquilo. En alguna parte, en el cielo, la luna estaba brillando.

            Justo entonces, sus agudos ojos nocturnos captaron un destello de algo brillante no lejos detrás de un árbol. Era un pequeño resplandor plateado del brillo de la luz de la luna sobre una superficie pulida. El señor Zorro permanecía quieto, observándolo. ¡Diablos! ¿Qué era aquello? Ahora se estaba moviendo, estaba surgiendo, saliendo. . . ¡Por los cielos! ¡Era el cañón de un rifle! Rápido como un látigo, el señor Zorro retrocedió a su agujero y en el mismo instante el bosque entero pareció explotar a su alrededor. ¡Bang-bang! ¡Bang-bang! ¡Bang-bang!

            El humo de los tres fusiles flotaba hacia arriba en el aire de la noche. Boggis y Bunce y Bean salieron de detrás de sus árboles y caminaron hacia el agujero.

            ¿Lo pescamos? decía Bean.

            Uno de ellos hizo brillar un  rayo de luz sobre el agujero y ahí, en el suelo, en el círculo de luz, mitad dentro y mitad fuera del agujero, estaban los pobres restos deshilachados manchados de sangre de. . . una cola de zorro. Bean los levantó. ‘Conseguimos la cola pero perdimos al zorro,’ dijo, meneando a distancia aquello.

            ¡Maldición! y ¡Maldición! dijo Boggis. ‘Disparamos muy tarde. Permitimos que pasara el momento en que sacó su cabeza.’

            ‘No la sacará otra vez tan pronto,’ dijo Bunce.

            Bean sacó un frasco de bolsillo de su bolso y tomó un trago de sidra. Entonces dijo ‘tomará tres días al menos antes de que tenga suficiente hambre para que vuelva a salir. No voy a sentarme aquí esperando a que salga. Cavemos para sacarlo.’

            ‘Ah,’ dijo Boggis. ‘Ahora hablas con sentido. Podemos cavar y sacarlo en un par de horas. Sabemos que está ahí.’

            ‘Considero que hay todo una familia del zorro ahí, abajo, en ese agujero,’ dijo Bunce.

            ‘Entonces tendremos el grupo,’ dijo Bean. ‘¡Consigamos las palas!’

Traducción de "Zlateh the Goat"

Zlateh the Goat

Isaac Bashevis Singer

“Aaron. . . knew that if they did not find shelter they would freeze to death.”

            At Hanukkah time the road from the village to the town is usually covered with snow, but this year the winter had been a mild one. Hanukkah had almost come, yet little snow had fallen. The sun shone most of the time. The peasants complained that because of the dry weather there would be a poor harvest of winter grain. New grass sprouted, and the peasants sent their cattle out to pasture.

            For Reuven the furrier it was a bad year, and after long hesitation he decided to sell Zlateh the goat. She was old and gave little milk. Feivel the town butcher had offered eight gulden for her. Such a sum would buy Hanukkah candles, potatoes and oil for pancakes, gifts for the children, and other holiday necessaries for the house. Reuven told his oldest boy Aaron to take the goat to town.

            Aaron understood what taking the goat to Feivel meant, but had to obey his father. Leah, his mother, wiped the tears from her eyes when she heard the news. Aaron’s younger sisters, Anna and Miriam, cried loudly. Aaron put on his quilted jacket and a cap with earmuffs, bound a rope around Zlateh’s neck, and took along two slices of bread with cheese to eat on the road. Aaron was supposed to deliver the goat by evening, spend the night at the butcher’s, and return the next day with the money.

            While the family said gookby to the goat, and Aaron placed the rope around her neck, Zlateh stood as patiently and good-naturedly as ever. She licked Reuven’s hand. She shook her small white beard. Zlateh trusted human beings. She knew that they always fed her and never did her any harm.

            When Aaron brought her out on the road to town, she seemed somewhat astonished. She’d never been led in that direction before. She looked back at him questioningly, as if to say, “Where are you taking me?” But after a while she seemed to come to the conclusion that a goat shouldn’t ask questions. Still, the road was different. They passed new fields, pastures, and huts with thatched roofs. Here and there a dog barked and came running after them, but Aaron chased it away with his stick.

            The sun was shining when Aaron left the village. Suddenly the weather changed. A large black cloud with a bluish center appeared in the east and spread itself rapidly over the sky. A cold wind blew in with it. The crows flew low, croaking. At first it looked as if it would rain, but instead it began to hail as in summer. It was early in the day, but it became dark as dusk. After a while the hail turned to snow.

            In his twelve years Aaron has seen all kinds of weather, but he had never experienced a snow like this one. It was so dense it shut out the light of the day. In a short time their path was completely covered. The wind became as cold as ice. The road to town was narrow and winding. Aaron no longer knew where he was. He could not see through the snow. The cold soon penetrated his quilted jacket.

            At first Zlateh didn’t seem to mind the change in weather. She, too, was twelve years old and knew what winter meant. But when her legs sank deeper and deeper into the snow, she began to turn her head and look at Aaron in wonderment. Her mild eyes seemed to ask, “¿Why are we out in such a storm?” Aaron hoped that a peasant would come along with his cart, but no one passed by.

            The snow grew thicker, falling to the ground in large, whirling flakes. Beneath it Aaron’s boots touched the softness of plowed field. He realized that he was no longer on the road. He had gone astray. He could no longer figure out which was east or west, which way was the village, the town. The wind whistled, howled, whirled the snow about in eddies. It looked as if white imps were playing tag on the fields. A white dust rose above the ground. Zlateh stopped. She could walk no longer. Stubbornly she anchored her cleft hooves in the earth and bleated as if pleading to be taken home. Icicles hung from her white beard, and her horns were glazed with frost.

            Aaron did not want to admit the danger, but he knew just the same that if they did not find shelter they would freeze to death. This was no ordinary storm. It was a mighty blizzard. The snow had reached his knees. His hands were numb, and he could no longer feel his toes. He choked when he breathed. His nose felt like wood, and he rubbed it with snow. Zlateh’s bleating began to sound like crying. Those humans in whom she had so much confidence had dragged her into a trap. Aaron began to pray to God for himself and for the innocent animal.

            Suddenly he made out the shape of a hill. He wondered what it could be. ¿Who had piled snow into such a huge heap? He moved toward it, dragging Zlateh after him. When he came near it, he realized that it was a large haystack which the snow had blanketed.

            Aaron realized immediately that they were saved. With great effort he dug his way through the snow. He was a village boy and knew what to do. When he reached the hay, he hollowed out a nest for himself and the goat. No matter how cold it may be outside, in the hay it is always warm. And hay was food for Zlateh. The moment she smelled it she became contented and began to eat. Outside, the snow continued to fall. It quickly covered the passageway Aaron had dug. But a boy and an animal need to breathe, and there was hardly any air in their hideout. Aaron bored a kind of a window through the hay and snow and carefully kept the passage clear.

            Zlateh, having eaten her fill, sat down on her hind legs and seemed to have regained her confidence in man. Aaron ate his slices of bread and cheese, but after the difficult journey he was still hungry. He looked at Zlateh and noticed her udders were full. He lay down next to her, placing himself so that when he milked her he could squirt the milk into his mouth. It was rich and sweet. Zlateh was not accustomed to being milked that way, but she did not resist. On the contrary, she seemed eager to reward Aaron for bringing her to a shelter whose very walls, floor, and ceiling were made of food.

            Through the window Aaron could catch a glimpse of the chaos outside. The wind carried before it whole drifts of snow. It was completely dark, and he did not know whether night had already come or whether it was the darkness of the storm. Thank God that in the hay it was not cold. The dried hay, grass, and field flowers exuded the warmth of the summer sun. Zlateh ate frequently: she nibbled from above, below, from the left and right. Her body gave forth an animal warmth, and Aaron cuddled up to her. He had always loved Zlateh, but now she was like a sister. He was alone, cut off from his family, and wanted to talk. He began to talk to Zlateh. “Zlateh, what do you think about what has happened to us?” he asked.

            “Maaa,” Zlateh answered.

            “If we hadn’t found this stack of hay, we would both be frozen stiff by now.” Aaron said.

            “Maaa,” was the goat’s reply.

            “If the snow keeps on falling like this, we may have to stay here for days,” Aaron explained.

            “Maaa,” Zlateh bleated.

            “What does ‘maaa’ mean?” Aaron asked. “You’d better speak up clearly.”

            “Maaa, maaa,” Zlateh tried.

            “Well, let it be ‘maaa’ then,” Aaron said patiently. “You can’t speak, but I know you understand. I need you and you need me. Isn’t that right?”

            “Maaaa.”

             Aaron became sleepy. He made a pillow out of some hay, leaned his head on it, and dozed off. Zlateh, too, fell asleep.

            When Aaron opened his eyes, he didn’t know whether it was morning or night. The snow had blocked up his window. He tried to clear it, but when he had bored through to the length of his arm, he still hadn’t reached the outside. Luckily he had his stick with him and was able to break through to the open air. It was still dark outside. The snow continued to fall and the wind wailed, first with one voice and then with many. Sometimes it had the sound of devilish laughter. Zlateh, too, awoke, and when Aaron greeted her, she answered, “Maaa.” Yes, Zlateh’s language consisted of only one word, but it meant many things. Now she was saying, “We must accept all that God gives us-heat, cold, hunger, satisfaction, light, and darkness.”

            Aaron had awakened hungry. He had eaten his food, but Zlateh had plenty of milk.

            For three days Aaron and Zlateh stayed in the haystack. Aaron had always loved Zlateh, but in these three days he loved her more and more. She fed him with her milk and helped him keep warm. She comforted him with her patience. He told her many stories, and she always cocked her ears and listened. When he patted her, she licked his hand and his face. Then she said, “Maaaa,” and he knew it meant. I love you, too.

            The snow fell for three days, though after the first day it was not as thick and the wind quieted down. Sometimes Aaron felt that there could never have been a summer, that the snow had always fallen, ever since he could remember. He, Aaron, never had a father or mother or sisters. He was a snow child, born of the snow, and so was Zlateh. It was so quiet in the hay that his ears rang in the stillness. Aaron and Zlateh slept all night and a good part of the day. As for Aaron’s dreams, they were all about warm weather. He dreamed of green fields, trees covered with blossoms, clear brooks, and singing birds. By the third night the snow had stopped, but Aaron did not dare to find his way home in the darkness. The sky became clear and the moon shone, casting silvery nets on the snow. Aaron dug his way out and looked at the world. It was all white, quiet, dreaming dreams of heavenly splendor. The stars were large and close. The moon swam in the sky as in a sea.

            On the morning of the fourth day Aaron heard the ringing of sleigh bells. The haystack was not far from the road. The peasant who drove the sleigh pointed out the way to him-not to the town and Feivel the butcher, but home to the village. Aaron had decided in the haystack that he would never part with Zlateh.

            Aaron’s family and their neighbors had searched for the boy and the goat but had found no trace of them during the storm. They feared they were lost. Aaron’s mother and sisters cried for him; his father remained silent and gloomy. Suddenly one of the neighbors came running to their house with the news that Aaron and Zlateh were coming up the road.

            There was great joy in the family. Aaron told them how he had found the stack of hay and how Zlateh had fed him with her milk. Aaron’s sisters kissed and hugged Zlateh and gave her a special treat of chopped carrots and potato peels, which Zlateh gobbled up hungrily.

            Nobody ever again thought of selling Zlateh, and now that the cold weather had finally set in, the villagers needed the services of Reuven the furrier once more. When Hanukkah came, Aaron’s mother was able to fry pancakes every evening, and Zlateh got her portion, too. Even though Zlateh had her own pen, she often came to the kitchen, knocking on the door with her horns to indicate that she was ready to visit, and she was always admitted. In the evening Aaron, Miriam, and Anna played dreidel. Zlateh sat near the stove watching the children and the flickering of the Hanukkah candles.

            Once in a while Aaron would ask her, “Zlateh, do you remember the three days we spent together?”

            And Zlateh would scratch her neck with a horn, shake her white bearded head, and come out with the single sound which expressed all her thoughts, and all her love.

* * * * *

Zlateh la cabra

Autor Isaac Bashevis Singer

Traductor Sergio Núñez Guzmán

“Aaron . . . sabía que si no encontraban refugio se congelarían hasta morir.”

            En la temporada del festival judío celebrado, por ocho días, a comienzos del invierno, el camino del poblado al pueblo normalmente se cubría de nieve, pero, en ese año, el invierno había estado templado. El festival judío casi había llegado; sin embargo, poca nieve había caído. El sol brillaba más por esos días. Los campesinos por eso se quejaban, porque por el viento seco habría una cosecha pobre de cereales invernales. Nuevos pastos brotaban y los campesinos sacaban su ganado a pastar.

            Para Reuven, el peletero, era un mal año y después de dudar mucho decidió vender a Zlateh, la cabra. Era vieja y daba poca leche. Feibel, el canicero del pueblo cercano había ofrecido ocho monedas por la cabra, con aquella suma compraría velas para el festival, papas y aceite para las rosquillas, regalos para los niños y lo necesario para la fiesta y para la casa. Reuven dijo a su hijo mayor, Aaron, que llevara la cabra al pueblo.

            Aaron comprendió lo que significaba llevarle la cabra a Feivel, pero tenía que obedecer a su papá. Lea, su madre, secó las lágrimas de sus ojos cuando escuchó la noticia. Las hermanas más jóvenes de Aarón: Anna y Miriam lloraron con mucho ruido. Aarón se puso su chamarra acolchonada y una gorra con orejeras, ató una cuerda alrededor del cuello de Zlateh y se llevó dos rebanadas de pan con queso para comer en el camino. Se suponía que Aarón entregaría la cabra por la tarde y pasaría la noche en casa del carnicero y regresaría al día siguiente con el dinero.

            En tanto la familia decía adiós a la cabra y Aaron le colocaba una cuerda alrededor del cuello, Zlateh permanecía tan paciente y tranquila como siempre. Lamía la mano de Reuven y sacudía su pequeña barba blanca. Zlateh confiaba en los seres humanos, sabía que siempre la alimentaban y nunca le hicieron ningún daño.

            Cuando Aaron la llevó al camino para el pueblo, parecía algo asombrada, nunca antes había sido conducida en aquella dirección. Zlateh interrogante lo miraba, como si le dijera: “¿A dónde me llevas?” Pero después de un momento, parecía llegar a la conclusión de que una cabra no preguntaría esas cosas; aunque el camino era diferente, atravesaron nuevos terrenos cultivados, pasturas y cabañas con techos de paja. Aquí y allá un perro ladraba y venía corriendo detrás de ellos, pero Aarón los alejaba con su garrote.

            El sol estaba  brillando cuando Aarón dejó el poblado. Repentinamente el tiempo cambio. Una gran nube negra con un centro azulado apareció en el este y se extendió rápidamente en el cielo. Un viento frío llegó inesperadamente con la nube. Los cuervos volaron bajo, graznando. Al principio parecía como si fuera a llover, pero en su lugar comenzó a granizar como en el verano. Era temprano, de día, pero se convirtió en oscuro como el polvo. Después de un rato el granizo se convirtió en nieve.

            En sus doce años, Aarón había visto toda clase de tiempo, pero nunca había experimentado una nevada como ésta. Era tan densa que ocultaba la luz del día. En un corto tiempo su sendero estaba cubierto totalmente. El viento era tan frío como el hielo. El camino al pueblo era angosto y ventoso, Aarón por mucho no sabía dónde estaba, no podía ver a través de la nieve. El frío pronto penetró su chamarra acolchonada.

            Al principio a Zlateh no parecía que le importara el cambio de tiempo, ella también tenía doce años y sabía lo que el invierno significaba, pero cuando sus patas se hundían más y más profundamente en la nieve, empezó a volver su cabeza y a mirar a Aarón con extrañeza, sus ojos dulces parecían preguntar: “¿Por qué estamos afuera en semejante tormenta? Aarón esperaba que algún campesino viniera con su carreta, pero nadie pasaba.

            La nieve engrosaba, cayendo al suelo en grandes copos rodantes. Debajo de las botas de Aarón, la nieve irritaba la suavidad de un campo labrado. Se dio cuenta que la nieve no era más grande sobre el camino,  él se había desviado, no podía calcular más cuál era el este y cuál el oeste, cuál sendero era para el poblado y cuál para el pueblo. El viento silbaba, aullaba, giraba la nieve alrededor en los remolinos. Parecía como si diablillos blancos estuvieran jugando al marro en los campos labrados. Había un polvo blanco rosa sobre el suelo. Zlateh se detuvo, no podía caminar más allá, obstinadamente ancló sus pezuñas en la tierra y baló como si alegara ser llevada a casa. Carámbanos colgaban de su barba blanca y sus cuernos estaban vidriados con escarcha.

            Aarón que quería admitir el peligro, pero sabía precisamente lo mismo que si no encontraban refugio se congelarían hasta morir. Ésta no era una tormenta ordinaria. Era una ventisca poderosa. La nieve había alcanzado sus rodillas. Sus manos estaban entumecidas y ya no podía sentir los dedos de sus pies. Se sofocaba cuando respiraba. Sentía su nariz como madera y la frotaba con nieve. El balido de Zlateh empezó a sonar como un llanto. Aquellos humanos en quienes había confiado tanto la habían arrastrado hacia una trampa. Aarón empezó a rogar a Dios por él y por el animal inocente.

            Repentinamente apareció el bulto de una loma. Se preguntaba que podía ser. ¿Quién había amontonado la nieve en aquel enorme montón? Se movilizó hacia aquello, arrastrando a Zlateh detrás de él. Cuando llego cerca, se dio cuenta que era un gran montón de heno que la nieve había blanqueado.

            Aaron se dio cuenta inmediatamente que estaban salvados. Con gran esfuerzo cavó su camino a través de la nieve. Era un muchacho pueblerino y sabía  qué hacer. Cuando alcanzó el heno, ahuecó un nido para él y para la cabra. No importa que tan frío pueda estar fuera, en el heno siempre hay calor y el heno era comida para Zlateh. El momento en que lo olió, se contentó y empezó a comer. Afuera, la nieve continuaba cayendo, rápidamente cubrió el pasaje que Aarón había cavado; sin embargo, un muchacho y un animal necesitaban respirar y ahí apenas había algún aire en su escondite. Aarón taladró una especie de ventana a través del heno y la nieve y con cuidado mantuvo el pasaje abierto.

            Zlateh habiendo comido su ración, se sentó en sus piernas traseras y parecía que había recuperado su confianza en el hombre. Aarón comió sus dos rebanadas de pan y queso, pero debido a la dificultad del viaje todavía tenía hambre. Miró a Zlateh y notó que sus ubres estaban llenas. Se recostó a su lado, colocándose de tal manera que cuando la ordeñara podía hacer caer la leche a su boca, era abundante y dulce. Zlateh no estaba acostumbrada a ser ordeñada de aquella manera, pero no se resistió; por el contrario, parecía estar deseosa de recompensar a Aarón por haberla traído a un refugio donde las paredes, el piso y el techo estaban hechos de comida.

            A través de la ventana, Aarón podía echar una mirada al caos exterior. El viento llevaba por delante toda la violencia de la nieve. Estaba completamente oscuro y no sabía si la noche ya había llegado o si era la oscuridad de la tormenta. Gracias a Dios que en el heno no había frío. El heno seco, el pasto y las flores del campo transpiraban el calor del sol de verano. Zlateh comía frecuentemente mordisqueando de encima, de abajo, de la izquierda y de la derecha, su cuerpo despedía un calor animal y Aarón se abrigaba junto a ella, siempre había querido a Zlateh, pero ahora era como una hermana, estaba solo, alejado de su familia y quería platicar, empezó a hablarle a Zlateh: “Zlateh, ¿qué piensas acerca de lo que nos ha sucedido?” Le preguntó.

            “Maaaa,” Zlateh contestó.

            “Si no hubiéramos encontrado este montón de heno, ambos estaríamos congelados y tiesos ahora.” Dijo Aarón.

            “Maaa,” fue la respuesta de la cabra.

“Si la nieve sigue cayendo semejante a ésta, vamos a tener que quedarnos aquí por varios días. Aarón explicó.

            “Maaaa,” baló Zlateh.

            “¿Qué significa maaaa?”, preguntó Aarón. Mejor habías de elevar la voz con más claridad.

            “Maaa, maaaa,” lo intentó Zlateh.

            “Bien, entonces dejemos que sea maaaa,” Aarón dijo pacientemente. “No puedes hablar, pero sé que me entiendes. Yo te necesito y tú me necesitas. ¿No es eso correcto?”

            “Maaaa.”

            Aarón estaba soñoliento, hizo una almohada con algo de heno, puso su cabeza en el heno y se durmió. Zlateh también se quedó dormida.

            Cuando Aarón abrió sus ojos no sabía si era de mañana o era de noche. La nieve había bloqueado su ventana. Intentó limpiarla, pero  cuando había perforado a través del largo de su brazo, todavía no había alcanzado el exterior. Por fortuna tenía su garrote con él y fue capaz de traspasar hasta el aire abierto. Todavía estaba oscuro afuera. La nieve continuaba cayendo y el viento gemía, primero con una voz y luego con muchas. Algunas veces tenía el sonido de una carcajada diabólica. Zlateh, también despertó, y cuando Aarón la llamó, contestó “Maaaa.” Sí, el lenguaje de Zlateh consistía de una sola palabra, pero significaba muchas cosas. Ahora estaba diciendo: “Debemos aceptar todo lo que Dios nos da: calor, hambre, satisfacción, luz y sombra.”

            Aarón había despertado con hambre, se había comido su alimento, pero Zlateh tenía mucha leche.

            Por tres días Aarón y Zlateh permanecieron en el montón de heno. Aarón siempre había querido a Zlateh, pero en esos tres días la quiso más y más. Lo alimentaba con su leche y lo ayudaba a conservar el calor. Lo confortaba con su paciencia. Él le contaba muchos cuentos y siempre erguía sus orejas y escuchaba. Cuando la acariciaba con la mano, lamía su mano y su cara, luego decía “Maaaa,” y sabía el significado. Yo te amo también.

            La nieve cayó por tres días, aunque después del primer día no era tan gruesa y el viento se tranquilizó. Algunas veces Aarón sintió que ahí nunca podía haber habido un verano, que la nieve siempre había caído; en todo caso, desde que él podía recodar. Él, Aarón, nunca tuvo un padre o una madre o hermanas. Era un niño de nieve, nacido de la nieve, lo mismo que Zlateh. Estaba tan tranquilo en el heno que sus oídos sonaban en la quietud. Aaron y Zlateh durmieron toda la noche y buena parte del día. En cuanto a los sueños de Aarón, aludían a un tiempo cálido. Soñaba con campos verdes, con árboles cubiertos con capullos, arroyos libres y pájaros cantores. Por la tercera noche, la nieve se había detenido; sin embargo, Aarón no se arriesgaba a encontrar su camino a casa en la oscuridad. El cielo se aclaró y la luna brilló, lanzando redes plateadas sobre la nieve. Aarón cavó su camino y salió al mundo. Todo estaba blanco, tranquilo, sueños soñados de esplendor celestial. Las estrellas eran grandes y compactas. La luna nadaba en el cielo como en un mar.

            En la mañana del cuarto día, Aarón oyó el sonido de las campanas de un trineo. El montón de heno no estaba lejos de un camino. El campesino que guiaba el trineo se dirigió hacia él, no al pueblo y a Feivel, el carnicero, sino a casa, al poblado. Aarón había decidido en el montón de heno que  nunca se iba a deshacer de Zlateh.

            La familia de Aarón y sus vecinos habían buscado al muchacho y a la cabra, pero no habían encontrado rastro de ellos durante la tormenta. Temían que se hubieran perdido. La madre y las hermanas de Aarón lloraron por él, su padre permaneció silencioso y triste. Repentinamente uno de los vecinos llegó corriendo a su casa con la noticia de que Aarón y Zlateh estaban subiendo por el camino.

            Hubo una gran alegría en la familia. Aarón les contó cómo había encontrado el montón de heno y cómo Zlateh lo había alimentado con su leche. Las hermanas de Aarón besaron y abrazaron a Zlateh y le dieron un regalo especial de zanahorias picadas y cáscaras de papa, que Zlateh devoró con hambre.

            Ya nadie pensó otra vez en vender a Zlateh y ahora que el tiempo frío finalmente se había estabilizado, lo pueblerinos necesitaban los servicios de Reuven, el peletero, una vez más. Cuando el festival judío llegó, la madre de Aarón fue capaz de freír rosquitas cada tarde y Zlateh obtenía también su porción. Aunque Zlateh tenía su propia pocilga, con frecuencia venía a la cocina, tocando la puerta con sus cuernos para indicar que estaba lista para visitarlos y siempre era admitida. En la tarde, Aarón, Miriam y Anna jugaban un pequeño trompo. Zlateh se sentaba cerca de la estufa observando a los niños y el parpadeo de las velas del festival judío.

            De vez en cuando, Aarón le preguntaba: “Zlateh, ¿te acuerdas de los tres días que pasamos juntos?”

            Y Zlateh rascaba su cuello con un cuerno, sacudía su cabeza blanca barbada y salía con el único sonido que expresaba todos sus pensamientos y todo su amor.

 Questionnaire 

1. Who are the principal characters of this story?
2. Where do Aaron and Zlateh live? 
3. Where do Aaron and Zlateh have to go?
4. Why did Reuven the furrier want to sell Zlateh?
5. When Aaron took Zlateh to the town what happened?
6. What did Zlateh ask Aaron when they were in the storm?
7. Why was Aaron lost?
8. Why did Aaron pray for the goat as well as for himself?
9. Where did Aaron and Zlateh find shelter?
10. Why did Aaron and Zlatelh become dependent on each other?
11. When Aaron talks with Zlateh what kind of answer gives Zlateh?
12. What is going to happen when the storm finished?
13. What does maaa mean?