A man dead by kicks. (3rd Part)

Here is the third part of this translation. You can find the first posts in here.

And, once again I should say, if you find any spelling or grammar mistake that you think it's unforgivable, please tell me.

The first thing is to study the man, I said to myself. And I started working on it. I looked over and over again at the pictures, one by one, making of them a complete study. I looked at them closely and then I separated from them extending my hand, I tried to found out all of their mysteries.

Until finally, after having them before me, I had learned by heart the most hiding gesture.

That bulge out of the forehead; that long and strange nose that looks so much like a stopper! Those long and fallen mustaches; that pointy chin; that limp and agitated hair.

I took a paper and drew the lines that compose the face of the Ramirez dead.

Then, when the drawing was complete, I noted something was missing, that what I had before my eyes wasn’t him; that there was and added detail, one that was complementary and essential. There!

I took my pen again and completed the bust, that if it were from cast, it wouldn’t be out of place in some Academy. Bust, which’s chest had something of a woman.

Then… then I got angry with him. I put him an aureole! An aureole that sticks to the skull with a little nail, like in the churches they stick them to the figures of the saints.

Wonderful figure I was doing of the Ramírez dead.

But, why did this come? I was trying… trying to know why they killed him. Yes, why did they killed him… Then, I made the next logical conclusions:

The Ramírez dead was called Octavio Ramírez (an individual with that nose can not be called in a different way);

Octavio Ramírez was forty two years old:

Octavio Ramírez was short of money;

Octavio Ramírez was terribly dressed, and, in the end, our dead was a foreigner.

With these beautiful facts, his personality was totally rebuilt. There was only missing, well, that of the motive that for me was having more evidence. The intuition was revealing me everything. The only thing that I had to do was, honestly, to rule out all the other possibilities. The first, declared by him, the matter of the cigarette, didn’t even need to be meditated. It was absolutely absurd that an individual was victimized in such a way. He had lied, he had disguised the truth; more than that, murdered the truth, and he had said that, because the other one he didn’t want, he couldn’t say it.

Una Dosis de Poesía (A los años)

No me des tregua

Julio Cortázar

No me des tregua, no me perdones nunca.
Hostígame en la sangre,
que cada cosa cruel sea tú que vuelves.
¡No me dejes dormir, no me des paz!
Entonces ganaré mi reino,
naceré lentamente.
No me pierdas como una música fácil,
no seas caricia ni guante;
tálame como un sílex, desespérame.
Guarda tu amor humano, tu sonrisa, tu pelo. Dálos.
Ven a mí con tu cólera seca de fósforos y escamas.
Grita. Vomítame arena en la boca, rómpeme las fauces.
No me importa ignorarte en pleno día,
saber que juegas cara al sol y al hombre.
Yo te pido la cruel ceremonia del tajo,
lo que nadie te pide: las espinas
hasta el hueso. Arráncame esta cara infame,
oblígame a gritar al fin mi verdadero nombre.

Premiación Nienpinturesca

Que hay Seguidores de la noble empresa NienPinturesca...!

Últimamente no hemos aparecido Nienpintura, pero hemos regresado...
Aquí les traemos las fotos de la premiación de nuestro concurso de microrelato.
Queremos agradecer al Café Bizarria por habernos permitido llevar a cabo el evento y por la atención que nos dieron. También agradecemos a las editoriales que donaron libros entregarlos como premio a los ganadores. Sin más lata, unas fotos NienPinturescas

Eri y Kenny con el ganador Gio Galarza

Gabby y Rafa Garrido

Eri, Kenny y Diego Andrade

Eri, Gabby y Luis Bravo

Diego Andrade y sus invitados

Rafa Garrido y su amigo

Luis Bravo y su amigo

Gio Galarza y sus amigos

Algunos momentos de la noche Nienpinturesca

¿Qué es NienPintura?

Un grupo literario, casi nuevo, del Ecuador.