Secret love (a micro-tale)

This micro-tale was written by my very good friend eclipse, in Spanish. She has presented it to a micro-tale contest but unfortunately has not won. I have promised that I would publish it in my blog, and here it is. For those of you who know Spanish, the original version follows. The blame for the clumsy translation is all on me. Enjoy it as I did.

Secret Love

(by eclipse – translated by Barsine)

 He never had the courage to tell her how much he loved her. He was just a clerk in the big library, and she, a distinguished customer. He adored for months her beauty, full of mysteries and promises.

–                     “I can provide you that love novel you are looking for” – he said one evening, repenting suddenly. Her long eye lashes fluttered above the book she was glancing through, ethereal and coquettish as black butterflies.

–                     “I’m not looking for a novel” – she said handing him the book, as she pierced him with her honey-dewed glance. He opened it embarrassed and saw a note written for him in the margin.

Months later, when he felt brave enough, he knelt in front of her to utter at last the words he never could.

– “Although you don’t believe me, I love you, I always did…” – and, raising up, he retired the dried leaves that covered the cold tombstone.

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Amor secreto – por eclipse

 Jamás tuvo valor para decirle cuánto la amaba. Él, un vulgar dependiente de la gran librería; ella, una clienta distinguida. Meses estuvo adorando su belleza, llena de enigmas y promesas.

-Le puedo conseguir esa novela de amor que anda buscando-pronunció una tarde, arrepintiéndose al instante. Las largas pestañas revolotearon por encima del libro que estaba hojeando, etéreas y coquetas, como mariposas negras.

-No busco una novela… -le contestó entregándole el ejemplar, mientras lo atravesaba con la miel líquida de su mirada. Lo abrió ruborizado, y vio escrita para él una nota al margen.

Meses más tarde, cuando se sintió capaz, se arrodilló frente a ella para pronunciar al fin las palabras que nunca pudo.

-Aunque no me creas, te quiero, siempre te he querido…- Y levantándose, retiró las hojas secas que cubrían la losa fría de la tumba.

 

 

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