Deshielo • Thaw

Ayer al despertar oí el grito de la primera golondrina. Abrí corriendo la ventana y ya no estaba. No he vuelto a oírla pero esto quiere decir que en cualquier momento el cielo se llenará de sus gritos y carreras. En Islandia, muy cerca de este lago, nos adentramos en una playa donde anidan miles de charranes árticos. Son unos pájaros que van y vienen de un círculo polar al otro. Es el animal más viajero de la tierra. Cada año suele volar unos 80.000 kilómetros. Las golondrinas y los charranes forman un griterío imparable, parlotean como si tuvieran muchísimo que contar, urgentemente. Los viajeros siempre tienen mucho que contar. Si no, es que no han viajado. El embajador holandés ante el rey de Siam pasó varias tardes contándole al monarca las maravillas de su lejano país, adornando vistosamente su relato acerca de cómo era aquel territorio tan llano y acosado por el mar, cómo construían sus casas, cómo tramaban los tejidos y teñían de colores sus ropas, las ceremonias sociales y los ritos religiosos. También le dijo que «algunas veces en su país el agua se endurecía tanto durante la estación fría del año, que los hombres caminaban encima, y que soportaría hasta el peso de un elefante, si estuviera allí. A eso replicó el rey: “Hasta este momento he creído las cosas extrañas que me has relatado, porque vi en ti un hombre sensato y de honor; pero ahora estoy seguro de que mientes.”» * Los viajeros tienen que ir con mucho cuidado para no mentir cuando cuentan lo que han visto.

Yesterday, waking up, I heard the cry of the first swallow. I hurried to open the window, but it was gone. I did not hear it again, but this means that now at any moment the sky will be filled with their cries and zigzag. In Iceland, quite near this lake, we came across a beach where thousands of arctic terns nest. These birds come and go from one polar circle to the other. It is the most traveling animal of the Earth. It usually flies 80,000 kilometers a year. The swallows and terns are engaged in an unstoppable crying, they chatter as if they had much to tell each other, urgently. Travelers always have much to tell. If not, they have not traveled. The Dutch ambassador to the King of Siam spent several evenings telling the king about the wonders of his distant country, plentifully adorning his story about how that land is, so flat and so much harassed by the sea, how they build their houses, how they weave their tissues, how they dye with colors their clothes, about the social ceremonies and the religious rites. He also told him that “that the water in his country would sometimes, in cold weather, be so hard that men walked upon it, and that it would bear an elephant, if he were there. To which the king replied, »Hitherto I have believed the strange things you have told me, because I look upon you as a sober fair man, but now I am sure you lie.«” * Travelers have to be very careful not to lie when they speak about what they have seen.

Tomamos todas estas fotos en la desembocadura del glaciar de Breiðamerkurjökull, en el lago de Jökulsárlón, Islandia • The photos were taken at the mouth of Glacier Breiðamerkurjökull, at lake Jökulsárlón, Iceland

Afternoon melancholy

here opposite in the courtyard
who discovers it first

Den

It’s two years now that I have presented the tale whose protagonist, the fox spends its time in various attractive dens, just like the ones into which I as a child have imagined myself on the basis of a popular picture book presenting the animals living under earth. Since then, I have planned to publish the latter book, and before I can do so, I illustrate with three other tales the idea of those holes so dear to the fantasy of a child.


Taberna Mylaensis: Fammi ristari ’nto menzu di to braccia


The well-furnished den, which I have always longed for, is exhibited in a sumptuous way, complete with every modern comfort, in the the tale The fox and the mouse by the popular tale writer of the 80s Vitaly Bianki. No matter that – btw, due to a fox – it ends quickly, you can be sure that the mouse would build it again somewhere else, in a more beautiful and improved edition, complete with many more chambers and tunnels.

– Mouse, mouse, why is your nose dirty? – I have been digging the earth.

– Why have you been diggin the earth? – I have been building a den.

– What is that den for? – To hide from you, fox.

– Mouse, mouse, I will catch you when you come out! – I have my bed in the den!

– You will come out when you want to eat! – I have my pantry in the den!

– Mouse, mouse, I will destroy your den! – And I will escape through the back door – and steal away!

Vitaly Bianki wrote also that other tale, whose refrain – Терем, теремок, кто в тереме живет? – “House, little house, who lives in this little house?” – may be familiar to those who had Russian courses back in the 80s. More and more animals settle in the hole of the old oak tree, growing larger from year to year, until it definitely rots and leans out. The dream-like illustrations of the book were drawn by Tatiana Kapustina.



But the roots of the den motif go back to much earlier times, perhaps to that book which was very popular at the beginning of the 20th century, and in which Sybille von Olfers (1881-1916) described and illustrated how the “root children” sleeping in large underground cavities wake up at the first wind of the spring, how they prepare to come forwad to light, and how they return there in the fall. This den tale is therefore particularly relevant in these days. This Art Nouveau tale book, published in 1906, was translated to Russian already in 1912: in this version the original four-line poems in German were replaced by long and detailed tales. Here now I quote and translate the original German poems

Front page of the original German and of the Russian edition of Wurzelkindern

“Wacht auf, wacht auf, ihr Kinderlein, es wird nun wohl bald Frühling sein!” Da reckt und streckt die kleine Schar und fährt sich durch das wirre Haar.

“Wake up, wake up, children because spring is coming!” And the small flock is stretching, and combing their tangled hair.

Schnell machen alle sich bereit und nähn sich selbst ihr Frühlingskleid. Mit Nadel Schere, Fingerhut, geht ihre Arbeit schon ganz gut.

They all quickly get reay and they are sawing their spring dresses. With needle, scissors and thimble the work is going on quite well.

Nun kommt ein jedes Wurzelkind und bringt sein Kleidchen ganz geschwind hinein zur guten Mutter Erde, damit’s von ihr gemustert werde.

And now every root child is coming and bringing her own little dress to good Mother Earth to put it under her scrutiny.

Die Wurzeljungen unterdessen haben auch nicht ihr Amt vergessen: Mit Pinsel, Bürste, Farbentopf gehn sie den Käfern an den Schopf.

The root kids at the same time do not forget about their duties: with brush, paints and colors they are working on the beetles.

Und als der Frühling kommt ins Land, da ziehn gleich einem bunten Band, die Käfer, Blumen, Gräser klein frohlockend in die Welt hinein.

And when the spring finally comes, as one long colorful band the beetles, flowers and grasses march up joyfully in the world.

(The same picture from the Russian edition: the German poem shield was replaced with roots)

Im Walde unterm dichten Grün, sieht man alsbald Maiglöckchen blühn. Ein lust'ger Schelm die Schneck' erschreckt, das Veilchen sich am Baum versteckt.

In the forest, under the dense foliage the lily of the valley is blooming. A lusty rogue frightens the snail, and violets are hiding behind the tree.

Es spielen hier den ganzen Tag Vergißmeinnicht am klaren Bach; wie eine kleine Königin läßt's Mummelkind umher sich ziehn.

They play all day long, distracted, at the clear brook: the mermaid girl, as a little queen attracts everyone to herself.

Auf grüner Wies' am Feldesrand die Blümlein tanzen Hand in Hand, Gräslein und Käfer freun sich sehr, ach, wenn's doch immer Sommer wär'!

On the green meadow at the edge of the field the flowers are dancing hand in hand. The grasses and beetles all rejoice: oh, may summer never pass away!

Da kommt der Herbst mit Sturm und Wind, treibt sie zur Mutter heim geschwind. “Geh’ nun zu Bett, du kleine Schar und schlaf dich aus bis nächstes Jahr”.

But the autumn comes with storm and wind and it drives them home to their mother. “Go to bed now, you little flock, sleep out until the next year.”

Él da la nieve como lana

«Él da la nieve como lana,
y derrama la escarcha como ceniza»
(Salmo 147:16)

El salmo que corresponde al día de hoy en la liturgia católica es el 147, pero se nos hizo presente hace dos semanas, junto con casi todas sus imágenes, cuando huíamos del invierno danés en Israel, buscando un poco de primavera. El primer día fue realmente primaveral: veinte grados y buen sol. Emprendimos una larga caminata desde Nazaret a través de tantos paisajes pintorescos para subir finalmente al Monte de la Transfiguración o Monte Tabor, como luego se le ha llamado. Avanzamos extasiados por una espléndida alfombra de flores que lo cubría todo.

«El Señor hace crecer la hierba de los montes,
y las plantas para uso de la gente»
(Salmo 147:8)

No imaginamos que éste sería nuestro primer y último día de primavera israelí. Por la noche empezó a llover y así continuó sin remisión durante varios días.

«Él es quien cubre de nubes los cielos, 

el que prepara la lluvia para la tierra»

(Salmo 147:8)

Llovió incansablemente durante tres días, lo que para Israel, que siempre lucha contra la sequía, fue sin duda una gran bendición. No tanto para nosotros. Bajo la lluvia desoladora fuimos en autobús a Jerusalén, donde el agua convertía las calles en ríos y la temperatura no pasaba de cinco grados.

«Él deja caer las piedrecillas de granizo; 
y a causa del frío todo se congela»
(Salmo 147:17)

Era realmente terrible. Me puse dos jerseys y encima dos abrigos para pasear por la ciudad; porque una vez que se llega a Jerusalén, no será una maldita lluvia la que consiga encerrarnos en el hotel, ni toda el agua que pueda empaparnos las zapatillas de verano.


A la mañana siguiente, dos de marzo, ocurrió sin embargo un milagro que suele acontecer en Jerusalén cada cinco años y que nos hizo olvidar todas las penalidades de los días anteriores. Comenzaron a caer gruesos copos de nieve. Nevó durante aproximadamente una hora, a ratos con una intensidad de tormenta, y el suelo se cubrió finamente de blanco. Por descontado, la nieve no nos llegó hasta la cintura, como en aquel invierno de 1921 del que no hace mucho vimos las fotos, pero fue una nevada de verdad, espesa y permanente. Y nos sumergimos en el bullicio que se provocó en las calles de Jerusalén.

«Él da la nieve como lana
y derrama la escarcha como ceniza»
(Salmo 147:16)

La gente de allí se emocionaba con este fenómeno extraordinario. Algunos incluso llegaron a Jerusalén desde el campo, la noche anterior, al oír la noticia de la inminente nevada, no fueran a perderse el acontecimiento. La insólita nevada se puede ver en unos cuantos vídeos en la red: aquí sólo quiero compartir dos breves secuencias muy hermosas. El primero está filmado en la ciudad vieja, y el segundo en la parte moderna, al oeste de Jerusalén. Los podríamos haber filamdo nosotros mientras paseábamos exactamente por estos mismos lugares:


Los vídeos fueron tomados por dos personas distintas, lo que hace sorprendente la similitud de la música elegida para acompañarlos. Esta música atemporal, de guitarra acústica, suave, en vivo contraste con la más fuerte, más dinámica y en general con toques orientales que vierten las radios israelíes, revela bien el asombro y la admiración con que los lugareños experimentaron este fenómeno natural excepcional —en las pocas horas que tardó en fundirse.

«Enviará su palabra, y los derretirá;
soplará su viento, y fluirán las aguas.
Alaba a Jehová, Jerusalén;
Alaba a tu Dios, Sión»
(Salmo 147:18, 12)

He spreads the snow like wool

„He spreads the snow like wool
and scatters the frost like ashes. ”
(Ps 147:16)

In the Catholic liturgy, the psalm of today’s Holy Mass is the 147th. It was exactly this psalm which came to life before us, together with almost all its images, when two weeks ago, in the last days of February we escaped the Danish winter and headed to Israel in search of some springlike weather. Our first day was springlike indeed: twenty degrees with sunshine. We started for a long hiking from Nazareth, wandered through picturesque landscapes, and finally successfully climbed the Mount of Transfiguration, or Mount Tabor, as it is called today. And we were enraptured by the magnificent spring flower carpet covering everything.

„He makes grass grow on the hills,
and plants for people to use.”
(Ps 147:8)

We did not know that this would be our first and last springlike day in Israel. That evening it started to rain, and it spilled  hopelessly for several days.

„He covers the sky with clouds;
he supplies the earth with rain.”
(Ps 147:8)

It was pouring non-stop for three days, which for Israel, which is struggling with the drought, was certainly a huge blessing, but not so much personally for us. In this desolate rain we went across by bus to Jerusalem, where the water was running in streams over the streets, and the temperature was not more than five degrees.

„He hurls down his hail like pebbles.
Who can withstand his icy blast?”
(Ps 147:17)

Well, we certainly could not withstand it. I had two pullovers and two coats on while roaming about the city, because once you are in Jerusalem, you will certainly not lock yourself up in your hotel room for some bloody rain, however much it flows in streams through my summer shoes.


The next morning, on the second of March, however, a miracle occurred which happens once every five years in Jerusalem, and which made us forget all the hardships of the previous days. It started to snow in huge flakes. It was snowing for about a hour, at times with the intensity of a snow storm, and it covered the soil with a thin layer for some hours. A waist-deep snow, like during that ominous winter of 1921 we have recently shown photos about, there was not, of course, but a real, thick, permanent snow, yes. We threw ourselves into the bustle of snowy Jerusalem.

„He spreads the snow like wool
and scatters the frost like ashes. ”
(Ps 147:16)

The locals were also completely excited by this extraordinary natural phenomenon. Some even traveled from the countryside to Jerusalem the previous night at hearing the news about the impending snowfall, just not to miss the big event. The snowfall itself is presented in several videos on the net: I just want to share two beautifully cut short ones with our readers. The first one was made in the Old City, and the second in the modern, western part of Jerusalem. They could have been made by ourselves, too, as we walked through exactly these places:


The two videos were taken by two different local residents, so it is very striking how similar the music are which accompany them. The timeless, gentle acoustic guitar music which is in such a sharp contrast to the louder, more dynamic, oriental-spiced music generally pouring from Israeli radios, renders really well the awe and admiration with which the locals watched this rare natural phenomenon – for the few hours until it melted.

„But he sends his word and melts them;
he stirs up his breezes, and the waters flow.
Extol the LORD, Jerusalem;
praise your God, Zion.”
(Ps 147:18, 12)