y yo le miraba placido aquel día en que durmió y durmió,
mientras todos lloraban,
y yo que no entendía nada pues sabia que dormía
y me preguntaba si estaría soñando con aquellos álamos
que tanto le gustaba contemplar en las pocas tardes cálidas de otoño
cuando se iba a caminar
sin decirle nada a nadie
y yo, que era siempre el único a notar su ausencia,
me gustaba correr hasta el portal
para desde ahí ver su larga figura alejarse
como se alejan los postes del telégrafo,
parecía no tener rumbo ni destino.
Nunca le seguí, ganas no me faltaron,
pero si esperaba despierto hasta que volvía
ya bien entrada y oscura la noche,
en silencio se tumbaba en el sillón de la estancia, ahí, solo,
Dormía sin morir...
R.
I will sleep when I die, used to say my granpa
and I looked peaceful that day when he selpt, and slept,
while everybody cryed,
and me who didnt understand anything because I knew he was sleeping
and ask myself if he would be dreaming about all that poplars
that he loved to stared at in the few warm autumn afternoon
when he went for a walk
without telling anything to anyone
and I, who was the only always to notice that he was not there,
I used to love running to the gate
to see then his long figure getting away
as the telegraph poles do
he seemed to have no direction nor destination.
I never followed him, although I wanted to
but I waited him awake until he was back again
when it was yet really late and dark night,
in silence he layed down in the couch, there, alone,
he was sleeping without dying...
R.
(translation: Carmen José Martínez-Quintanilla Rubio)
