Juan Rulfo died on this day in 1986 in Ciudad de Mexico due to pulmonary emphysema, but his work is still valid and at the height of recognition. In addition, new generations of readers also continue to discover and appreciate it. It was as brief as it was intense but, due to its quality, it occupies a prominent position within the so-called tree for the Latin American literature 60 the years.
The most famous remain Pedro Paramo, his only novel of which Borges said that it was "one of the best in Hispanic-language literature, and even in literature." And so it has remained, as one of the masterpieces of world literature of the 20th century. But Rulfo too wrote poetry and today we remember it with a selection of poems and fragments.
Juan Rulfo
It was the third of five brothers and his family had a good economic position, but his father was killed when he was six years old. Six years later his mother died and it was his grandmother who took care of him until he ended up being sent to an orphanage.
In 1947 he married Clara aparicio, with whom he had four children. In 1970 she won the National Prize for Literature in Mexico. A few years later he was elected member of the Mexican Academy of Language. In 1983 he was awarded the Prince of Asturias Awards and two years later he was appointed doctor honoris causa for the National Autonomous University of Mexico.
Juan Rulfo — Selection of poems and fragments
Untitled
Where were you? It seemed to find you among the smallest noises are those that beat their sounds and are confused with the palpitations with the murmur of the earth with the scream of blood.
It seemed to find you barely returned like going from a hopeless constellation. I was missing you. You were like that dream that never comes and that remotely awaits us between two seasons.
Little girl
Do you know something?
I have come to know, after many turns, that you have sugar eyes. Yesterday, no less, I dreamed that she was kissing your eyes, above your eyelashes, and it turned out that my mouth tasted like sugar; neither more nor less, to that sugar that we eat by stealing it from the kitchen, hidden from our mother, when we are children.
I have also concluded by knowing that the cheeks, the right and the left, both have a peach flavor, perhaps because some of that flavor rises from the heart.
Well, the thing is, whatever the case may be, I can't wait to see you again.
I'm not satisfied, no; I despair.
Yesterday I thought about you, also, I thought how good I would be if I found the way to the peach of your heart; how soon the evil would end in my soul.
For now, I started to measure the size of my darling and he drove 685 kilometers down the road. That is, from here to where you are. That's it. And you are the beginning and end of all things.
We live in a land
We live in a land
in which everything happens,
thanks to providence,
but everything happens with acidity.
We are condemned to that.
Nobody can last that long
Nobody can last that long,
there is no memory
no matter how intense it is
that it does not go out.
I like you more
I like you more
when I dream of you,
then I make you
what I want.
every sigh
every sigh
It's like a sip of life
which one gets rid of.
I cry
I cry, you know,
I cry sometimes for your love.
And I kiss piece by piece
every part of your face
and I never stopped loving you.
Juan Rulfo - Tell them not to kill me - de The Burning Plain
—Tell them not to kill me, Justino! Go, go tell them that. That for charity. So tell them. Tell them to do it for charity.
-Can't. There's a sergeant there who doesn't want to hear anything about you.
—Make me hear you. Be smart and tell him that it was already good for scares. Tell him to do it for the charity of God.
—It's not about scares. It looks like they're really going to kill you. And I don't want to go back there anymore.
—Go again. Just one more time, see what you get.
-No. I am not in the mood for that, I am your son. And if I go with them a lot, they'll end up knowing who I am and they'll try to shoot me too. It is best to leave things of this size.
—Come on, Justin. Tell them to feel so sorry for me. Just tell them that.
Justin gritted his teeth and shook his head saying:
-No.
And he continued shaking his head for a long time.
Justino got up from the pile of stones on which he was sitting and walked to the door of the corral. He then turned to say:
-I go then. But if they shoot me too for loss, who will take care of my wife and her children?
—Providence, Justino. She will take care of them. Make sure you go there and see what things you do for me. That is what is urgent.
Sources: Write to you and Virtual Word