Mujer veneno
En la universidad, Jacinto se destacó por ser un muchacho muy inteligente, brillante en las matemáticas. Yo lo conocí en una de esas tantas materias de ingeniería e inmediatamente nos hicimos amigos. Por aquella época Jacinto tenía un Corsa y siempre pasaba por mí para ir a clases, igualmente nos acompañábamos al regreso. Hay que decir que nuestros días se centraban en rutinas académicas, ya que nos queríamos graduar pronto y con excelentes calificaciones. Por eso cuando Jacinto conoció a Pamela, todo el mundo dijo que nos había cambiado el mundo. Pamela estudiaba Letras y era la criatura más sensual que nuestros ojos hubiesen visto.
A Pamela la conocíamos de lejos, al igual que toda la universidad. Ella se acercó un día para que la ayudáramos a hacer un trabajo con unas encuestas. Jacinto, que siempre fue muy enamoradizo, quedó hechizado al instante. Demasiado olor a jazmín, a canela, a rocío, brotaba de aquella piel tersa y bronceada. Pero eran los ojos de Pamela los que hipnotizaban: demasiado negros y profundos. Pamela, que estaba acostumbrada a ser el centro de atención de todos, ni se dio por enterada y solo nos buscaba cuando necesitaba de nosotros. Un día Jacinto me dijo que ayudaría a Pamela en su tesis para graduarse y más nunca pasó por mí como era su costumbre.
La facultad de ingeniería quedaba relativamente cerca de la de letras, por lo que era normal que pasara por una de las plazas que llamaban El Paraíso y que no era más que el lugar de encuentro de hippy, músicos, poetas. Allí podía ver a Pamela y lo que quedaba de Jacinto, mi amigo. Ya no era el muchacho apuesto, limpio y arreglado que una vez conocí. Ahora era parte de esa fauna amorfa que se reunía y convivía en aquel jardín: barbudos y andrajosos. Tampoco en los estudios era el mismo: su talento para los números había desaparecido y su fama de buen estudiante, también.
Después de graduarme no supe más de él. Luego, lo vi una mañana y tardé en reconocerlo. Alguien me dijo que aquel mendigo era Jacinto o sus escombros. Pero nadie me supo decir el porqué de su estado, de su demencia. Yo tampoco pregunté porque en el fondo intuía la razón de su locura: Pamela y ese abismo que llevaba en los ojos.
Poisonous woman
It is not the first time I have seen Jacinto or what is left of him. He has seen me too, but he has not recognized me. His brain must be a lagoon full of shadows caused by substances, alcohol, hunger. He has passed by with his hand outstretched asking for money and something to eat. Some have given him a few bills, I have too. He just thanked me and continued with his outstretched hands elsewhere. When I gave him the money, I said: "Here, Jacinto", but he remained unmoved, with his mouth half open and a trickle of saliva at the corner of his mouth, walking, shuffling his feet, as if his soul was heavy. Jacinto was not always like that.
In college, Jacinto stood out for being a very intelligent boy, brilliant in mathematics. I met him in one of those many engineering courses and we immediately became friends. At that time Jacinto had a Corsa and he always passed by me to go to class, and we would also accompany each other on the way back. It must be said that our days were centered on academic routines, since we wanted to graduate soon and with excellent grades. That is why when Jacinto met Pamela, everyone said that she had changed our world. Pamela was studying Literature and was the most sensual creature our eyes had ever seen.
We knew Pamela from afar, as did the whole university. She approached us one day to help her do some survey work. Jacinto, who was always very love-struck, was instantly smitten. Too much scent of jasmine, cinnamon, dew, was wafting from that smooth, tanned skin. But it was Pamela's eyes that mesmerized: too black and too deep. Pamela, who was used to being the center of everyone's attention, didn't even notice us and only looked for us when she needed us. One day Jacinto told me that he would help Pamela with her graduation thesis and never came by to pick me up again as was his custom.
The engineering school was relatively close to the college of letters, so it was normal for me to pass by one of the squares called El Paraíso, which was only a meeting place for hippies, musicians and poets. There I could see Pamela and what was left of Jacinto, my friend. He was no longer the handsome, clean-cut, well-groomed boy I had once known. Now he was part of that amorphous fauna that gathered and coexisted in that garden: bearded and ragged. He was not the same in his studies either: his talent for numbers had disappeared and his reputation as a good student, too.
After I graduate, I never heard from him again. Then I saw him one morning and it took me a while to recognize him. Someone told me that that beggar was Jacinto or his debris. But no one could tell me the reason for his state, for his dementia. I didn't ask either because deep down I sensed the reason for his madness: Pamela and that abyss in his eyes.
La imagen principal es de libre uso y editada en Canva, y el texto fue traducido con Deepl Translate
Una buena versión de la "mujer fatal", aunque Jacinto, con ese nombre de flor, terminó siendo ante ella como un "come-flor" consumido por la pasión. Un abrazo, @nancybriti.
Oye, ciertamente, no se me había ocurrido!! A veces los nombres marcan a las personas. Jajajaja. abrazos
Me recuerda a ese personaje de los miserables, de Víctor Hugo, llamado Jean Val Jean y la frase de su epitafio: 'vivió y murió, hasta que perdió a su ángel'. Quizás Pamela no represente, en el fondo, sino ese estanque donde terminan ahogándose los que se aferran a un imposible. Abrazos
Me gusta esa última frase, me parece tan poética!! Abrazos y gracias por comentar