Florentino Ariza was awake most of the night, believing that he heard Fermina Daza’s voice in the fresh river breeze, tending to his solitude with her memory, listening her sing in the respiration of the boat as it trundled on with the same steps of a big animal through gloomy darkness, until the first rosy streaks appeared on the horizon and a new day suddenly burst forth over deserted pastureland and misty swamps. Then his journey seemed yet another proof of his mother’s wisdom, and he felt the strength to survive forgetting.
Florentino Ariza permanecía en vela la mayor parte de la noche, creyendo oír la voz de Fermina Daza en la brisa fresca del río, pastoreando la soledad con su recuerdo, oyéndola cantar en la respiración del buque que avanzaba con pasos de animal grande en las tinieblas, hasta que aparecían las primeras franjas rosadas en el horizonte y el nuevo día reventaba de pronto sobre pastizales desiertos y ciénagas de brumas. El viaje le parecía entonces una prueba más de la sabiduría de su madre, y se sintió con ánimos para sobrevivir al olvido.
From “Love in the Time of Cholera,” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
This snippet is an exception. This blog is dedicated to English literature, but I want to recognize Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s impact on the world literature. Countless English writers have studied his work. Now, as he lies near death, let this small paragraph pay homage to his greatness. Even the English translation of his prose shines with great beauty. Yet, those fortunate readers who also know Spanish realize the extraordinary allurement of his style. No one can surpass Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s ability to tell a story. I am sure that we all pray for a miracle.
