miércoles, 3 de mayo de 2017

The Eye (Nabokov, 1930)

Primera edición en inglés
     Matilda, a friend of their parents, often vis-
ited them and stayed for dinner. One night,
as she was leaving, and there was a noisy
downpour, they lent her an umbrella, and she 
said: "How nice, thank you very much, the
young man will see me home and bring it
back." From that time on, walking her home
was one of my duties. I suppose she rather 
appealed to me, this plump, uninhibited, cow-
eyed lady with her large mouth, which would
gather into a crimson pucker, a would-be rose-
bud, when she looked in her pocket mirror to
powder her face. She had slender ankles and 
a graceful gait, which made up for many 
things. She exuded a generous warmth; as soon
as she appeared, I would have the feeling that
the heat in the room had been turned up, and 
when, after disposing of this large live furnace
by seeing her home, I would be walking back
alone amid the liquid sounds and quicksilver
gloss of the pitiless night, I would feel cold,
cold to the point of nausea. 

Tomado de las páginas 4 & 5 de The Eye (Nabokov, 1930; Ed. Vintage International)
Traducido por Dimitry Nabokov, en colaboración con el autor.