La danza de los muertos
Mercedes Alba
Cuando solo se escuchan los suspiros de dios en las calles y el fri贸 del norte azota puertas y ventanas, llega el invierno a morder los dedos de los vivos y ante los ojos semi abiertos de las orquideas de nieve y los lagos congelados comienza en el cielo la danza de las almas perdidas.
En mi calendario es el 2 de noviembre, en M茅xico, el d铆a de los muertos y en Egipto se celebra la gran fiesta 鈥揹el beso de los dos mundos-. Hoy es el d铆a en que las leyendas toman caf茅 con pan en forma de calaveras y la luz juega a ser una canci贸n de cuna, hoy nadie esta solo.
En las casas de Laponia los ancianos hablan todo el d铆a con los danzantes de la luz, es el d铆a que en que se abre en la ciudad, el observatorio de auroras boreales mas grande del mundo, dicen que este es un lugar sagrado porque desde hace millones de a帽os aqu铆 aparece la primera aurora boreal de cada invierno.
No se de donde viene tanta gente, ni los incontables arco iris que alumbran esta noche. Lo cierto es que cada dos de noviembre llegan las almas cubiertas de luz violeta roja, dice mi madre que son las sombras de los que aun son recordados en esta tierra, as铆 comienza el ballet de la luz, que abre r谩pidamente los ojos de la oscuridad, para que escapen de sus pupilas, los pajaros de para铆sos, el tucan, el ruise帽or, los b煤hos y el colibr铆 que en un instante convierten este rinc贸n del cielo en una concierto de color.
Mi padre dice, que es el d铆a en que vuelven los que hemos perdido, con antorchas de alegr铆a, vienen a levantar un altar con danzas- multicolor y a sentarse entre nosotros, en este cielo que es mas profundo que su ausencia y que tocan con sus dedos nuestras mejillas si lloramos.
La se帽ora que vende flores y mi abuela creen o铆r las voces de las almas, si se escucha con el coraz贸n, John, el maestro de f铆sica dice que son, solo leyendas para atraer mas turismo, que las flores de sol que se desojan esta noche sobre el cielo, no son los reflejos de los dedos de dios , yo lo 煤nico que he visto, es que estos arco iris que me absorben y suspiran por mis poros, han llegado de la regi贸n norte del mundo, de donde vienen los muerto, navegando tranquilos en un rompehielos que nos muestra el infinito.|||When only God's sighs are heard in the streets and the northern cold beats against doors and windows, winter arrives to bite the fingers of those alive, and before the semi-open eyes of the snowy orchids and frozen lakes, the dance of the lost souls begins in the sky.
On my calendar, it is November 2. In Mexico, the Day of the Dead is celebrated, and in Egypt, they celebrate the Great Fesast of the kiss of two worlds. Today is the day in which legends drink coffee and have sweet bread in the shape of skulls, and the light pretends to be a lullaby. Today, noone is alone.
In the houses of Laponia, the elderly talk all day with the dancers of the light; it is the day when in the city , the observatory of greatest the aurora borealis opens up. It is said that is a sacred place because for millions of years, the first aurora borealis of the winter appears here.
I don't know where so many people come from, nor the countless rainbows that appear on this night. What is true is that each Nov. 2, is the arrival of the souls covered in a red violet light. My mother says that they are the shadows of those who are still remembered here on Earth; this is how the Ballet of the lights begins, that it opens quickly the eyes of darkness, so that out of its pupils escape the birds of paradise, toucans, the morning lark, owls and the hummingbird, all of which instantly convert this corner of the sky into a concert of color.
My father says that this is the day when those we have lost return, with torches of joy, they come to raise an altar with dances--multicolor, to sit with us, in this sky that is deeper than their absence and which touch with their eyes our cheeks if we cry.
The woman who sells flowers, and my grandmother believe they hear voices of souls, if they hear with their heart. John, the physics teacher says these are just legends to attract more tourism, that the sun flowers that lose their leaves over the skky on this night are not reflecting of God's fingers. What I have seen is that these rainbows that absorb me and sigh through my pores, have arrived from the northern region of the world, from where the dead arrive, navigating calmly in an icebreaker that shows us infinity.|||i don't know all of these words, so i may not be able to help entirely, but if you have a spanish-english dictionary or look one up on the internet, you should be able to catch most of it. in the meantime, i'll translate what i know.
cuando=when
escuchan=they listen
dios=God, most of the time, unless there is an accent mark.
frio=cold
norte=north
puertas y ventanas= doors and windows
llega=he or she wears
invierno= winter
dedos= fingers
ojos=eyes
it's saying that on the calendar, it's the second of november, the day of ____ in Egypt.
some of the words in spanish sound a lot like english, so sometimes you might just be able to guess.
abuela=grandma
oir= to hear
con= with
vienen=they have
tranquilos= calm(plural)
la luz= a light
roja= red or pink
madre=mother
nosotros=we
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