LA VISITA DE PADRE FATHER'S VISIT
Edgardo Dobrytrans. Anabel Torres
Padre me visitaba en Barcelona
deprimido. Si objeto sublunar
cribaba algún blindaje de su angustia
teníamos un átimo de estancia suculenta:
ya me pide explicaciones que no tengo
sobre el brazo de gitano: si surgiera
en el pionono del toroide azucarado
- padre es ingeniero en jubileo -
su étnico nombre en sincronía.
De otro lado lo compra algún domingo
de nata pero piensa, ya comido,
que de crema estuviera en mejor punto:
"La pastelería alimenta incertidumbres
- me dice, mientras Madre asalta el baño -
en regiones sin dulce de leche".
Padre me visitaba deprimido
y cierta noche lo converso a varias bandas:
que viniendo de una chacra en Moisés Ville
fue el único entre seis hermanos
- "ya todos muertos menos Sara", hubo terciado -
que se esforzó en tener estudios,
y ha criado hijos de pleno y ha viajado
y me ha enseñado cosas que
ni sabihonda Madre mismísima intuyera
- cómo la risa, por ejemplo, no es siempre
una patente de boludo -.
Lo veo aquella noche de la charla
ganar la cama más completo
que antes de sentarme a caminar
alrededor de su flaca expectativa.
Pero al rosicler del otro día llega
a la sala no muy pingüe
y al ofrecerle un mate dice:
"Sabés que lo que anoche hablamos
- aquí chupa - me hizo bastante peor."
Father was visiting me in Barcelona,
depressed. When a sublunar object
found a chink in his armour of misery
we had a glimmer of succulent being:
then he dug in asking for explanations I didn't have
about the so-called Gypsy log: if only
in the dough of that sugared cylinder
- Father is a retired engineer -
its ethnic name might emerge in synchrony.
On the other side of the ocean, some Sundays
he orders a fresh cream roll but thinks, once he has finished it,
that a custard filling might have been tastier:
"Patisserie feeds uncertainty"
- he says to me, while Mother assaults the bathroom -
"in regions deprived of our staple 'dulce de leche'."
Father was depressed when he visited me,
and on a certain night I gave him a talking to on several wavelengths:
that coming from a farm in Moisés Ville
he was the only one among six offspring
- "All dead already, except for Sarah", he interjected -
who had made the effort to study,
and he had raised fine upstanding children and travelled
and taught me things that not even
my know-it-all Mother would suspect
- like, for example, that laughter is not always
a licence to be an idiot -.
The night of our talk I watched him
go off to bed more full of himself
than before I sat down to explore
the boundaries of his slender expectations.
But next day at the break of dawn he comes
into the living room looking rather forlorn
and when I offer him a mate he says:
"You know, what we talked about last night"
- here he sucks at his mate - "made me much, much worse."

Copyright © Edgardo Dobry 2004; trans. copyright © Anabel Torres 2004


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