Altisidora



In these days when people have been talking about Cervantes, Altisidora has come to my mind. I have smelled her enervating hair that poisons the darkness of the moonlit fullnight. And I have let myself be carried away by listening to the mezmerizing of her ukulele. Perhaps the pages that I like the most in Quixote, have been those that describe the Hidalgo's stay between the dukes; between the duke Maleante and the Propicia duqueza. You can hardly smell the garlic that hurt the nose, and the action glides along neatly and gleefully like a game of chess played in a large room overlooking to a garden.

We lived in their house, mischief, cordiality and health. Let's not think about politics nor money. We are -as they say- at our ease.

The aforementioned Altisidora pretends to be in love with Don Quixote. Courtship of glances glimpses, rancorous mudslinging, sweet-songs, complaints and agonies... All this against the knight. And a cat arrives in a fit of rapture scratching the maiden's falsehood. 

Shall we reproach her for this? I think that to defame the maiden for posterity would be iniquitous. Call her disloyal if you prefer, or headless, or even cruel; -this latest only in consideration of the cat's claws-. But mockery is mockery of love; and perhaps it would be neither reasonable nor practical to banish malignity from love.

Fortunately, the most ingenuous woman is made in such a way that in the sweetenerest crises of her beau she succeeds in throwing drops of acid. Will not this dripping be what possesses the tongues of mischief-makers grievance remover and vile boor'? The cuddly moralists that snuggled will want to tell us that it is, from their hullabalooment, that the flirtation is the black point in the rice. But all those "Alticidoras" will remain unconscious and wise dripping lemon in the candy. 

This may not be moral. It will always be a kitchen skill: Lying to Love -infinitely dangerous, indeed-. But let's not be so scandalized so fast; even the most scrupulous is guilty of such a big lie. I know of more than one righteous person who has been punished by the remorse of the interweaving of the heart, Who will throw the first stone?, and then that lies are appreciated as the years go by.

The deceived woman or man --whether they cry or not for the deceit--, will contemplate with sympaty the fallacious mouth. The sincere mouth, has the risk of discrediting itself. The fallacious mouth does not lose its authority easily.

We need to be mistreated to be assured of love.  And then, the naturalist, in his classification, will assign us the label: Homo Sapiens. And the rabbits will rehearse their patented smile, and the orangutan and the wolf will wink at each other, slyly. 

She did very well the perfect Alticidora in feigning a passion. She did very well in the night of rhymes and honeysuckles, in giving Don Quixote the feeling of love for his withered face, for his armor of comedies, for his teeth depleted b y a hundred battle; for his 'a la gineta' helmets, for his senile vanity. 

You, dear reader, wouldn't you like to have a cat-less lady?



drawing/design by Reyna Isabel Hurley 

©

Source: "Altisidora" por  Ramón López Velarde

Transcribed by LLL (it contained some adaptings) and translated with a little help of DeepL & gTranslate

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