Drawing by Eric List Crespo.
The Wall of Adobes
by
Germán List Arzubide
When Isabel told him yes, Juan Maria waited till Sunday
and instead of playing his harmonica went to the field. Wrapped in his
serape he found an adequate place and began to build his hut. He made adobe
bricks from the pressed black earth and raised the first wall working in
silence, listening to the morning unfold with the metallic song of the
cicadas.
* * *
The foreman vomited swears that made the horse rear as if lashed by
the jingling spurs . . . "A hut? With whose permission? Does he think it
his land? ... Hah!...", and the crop fell like a lacerating oath.
* * *
They say yesterday Isabel took off for the city ... since
Juan Maria couldn't build her no house ...
* * *
The wall of adobes stood alone at noon, parading its dark
stain under the resentful sun.
* * *
The foreman approached. From the abandoned adobe wall in
the field, a rifle's muzzle followed him ... followed him ... a shot ...
the afternoon bled itself on the foreman's lifeless body.
* * *
"Here", said the officer--Juan Maria took off his serape
and put it at his feet, he leaned against the adobe wall and thought of
Isabel who was away in the city. The five eyes of the muzzles stared at
him implacably. The officer shouted "Fire!", and Juan Maria could see the
earth grow black with his blood. Then night poured in on the monotonous
song of a cricket.
Translated by Ben Tarver.
Two poems
The Rape of Ruben's Woman
Who is Germán List Arzubide?
100 years ...
An Interview ...