El blog del Departamento de Traducción y Comunicación Intercultural (TCI). A través de este blog, nuestro departamento quiere compartir contigo información, reflexiones, comentarios, trucos, sugerencias y datos de interés sobre diferentes aspectos en relación con el Grado en Traducción y Comunicación Intercultural. Te invitamos a que participes y hagas de este blog un espacio vivo y dinámico donde poder intercambiar ideas con el resto de la comunidad en la Red. Al terminar su lectura tendrás la posibilidad de publicar tu post o entry y así ampliar la información difundida.
EPISODE 40: ¡Tú sí que vales!
El alumno Daniel de la Rubia de 1ºTCI nos presenta su primer relato corto en inglés titulado “The Promise”. Dentro de la asignatura de Lengua B (Inglés) impartida por la profesora Begoña Barrado, se le propuso a Daniel reescribir y ampliar un brevísimo relato que había entregado como parte de su evaluación continua. El resultado ha sido una narración con un estilo muy propio, un argumento muy trabajado y un final que no deja al lector indiferente. Esperamos que su trayectoria como escritor sea fructífera y sobre todo satisfactoria. Él mismo nos cuenta su experiencia literaria.
“Empecé a escribir hace siete años, aproximadamente. En 2007, conseguí colar uno de mis relatos entre los 25 preseleccionados del Premio de Narración Breve de la UNED. En 2008, fui finalista del Premio Bancaja-Universidad de Valencia de Escritura de Creación en la modalidad de Narrativa Breve en Castellano. En 2009 conseguí otro diploma, por un cuento titulado Víctimas de la guerra contra los egipcios (en el que no había ninguna guerra y mucho menos algún egipcio) que fue publicado junto con otros nueve. A decir verdad, escribo muy poco. Este relato fue una propuesta de Begoña, casi un assignment adicional, y no pude negarme. Espero que os guste.”
I’ve seen her grow up, you know. I mean, I paid real attention. My mother told me that the day her parents brought her home, I was playing in the garden and, when they got out of the car, I started to shout out her name through the hedge. The truth is I don’t remember as I was only three years old. What I remember is the afternoon when her father taught her to ride a bike. All the while I was sitting on the sidewalk, pretending I was not paying much attention but hoping that someone needed me for something. Have you seen the house in the tree of my garden? It is more than fifteen years old. I made it almost single-handedly with the hope that someday she would climb up. Well, and also because from there you could see much of her room. Over time, she not only climbed up, but we spent a night there. But do not look. Nothing happened. We were still two kids, and besides this, she wasn’t in love with me. She has never been, I suppose, but the day of her twentieth birthday we made a promise. We were sitting on the back porch of my house, trying to imagine how our lives would be when we were thirty, just for fun. My parents had died some months before. In the end, she said that if the two of us were still single and with no commitments when I got to that age, she would live with me and we would get married. We had just seen that episode of Friends, you know. She became very serious and asked me if I was willing to promise it. I said yes, of course.
—I know you are very close. And I understand. You have grown up together. But if I have to be honest, I'm not quite sure why you have brought me here.
Yes. Well… it's a wonderful place, don’t you think so? Isolated; quiet. Nothing else but nature, homemade beer and a good friend. The perfect place to get rid of your worries. These last few years have been a bit complicated, and I have had to come to this forest many times. In short, she is a very attractive girl, no need to tell you, and you're not the first to seduce her. Clearly, they have also been difficult years for her. In spite of how lovely she is, none of her relationships have turned out right. In fact, I don't even know if you can call them relationships. Those guys have gone out a couple of times with her, three at the most, and then nothing else. As if the earth had swallowed them up. I'm afraid that has undermined her self-esteem a little, but, under the circumstances, she has recovered quite well from all the blows. Of course, it was different with that boy who lived in our neighborhood, the one who worked in the garage. I suppose you've heard about it. She knew where he lived, and she even knew his parents by sight. I had to do really nasty things to get that farewell note from him. If I had written it myself, the boy’s parents would probably have noticed it. So he had to write it himself. Get an idea. Anyway, the point is that here you are, an attractive, classy, friendly and brilliant guy, with a promising future… and on top of it all, there’s that accent which gives you an interesting touch. No fucking fault whatsoever! Damn, even I like you! And, before you fall asleep completely, I want to tell you one more thing: you have made her happy. You deserve to know that, at least. I’ve never seen her so radiant so I relaxed, and I've even been tempted to give you my consent. I've been thinking a lot about that these days, but every time I do it I encounter the same problem, an insurmountable obstacle. Because, after all, yes, you have a fault: You’re not me. I’m sorry.