Cuentan en el barrio que Fernando murió de pena. Su hijo falleció tres meses antes que él, en un accidente de coche. Fernando vivía con él. Los dos se entendían a la perfección desde siempre. Eran uña y carne.
Era normal verlos hacer la compra en el súper todos los sábados por la mañana. Siempre juntos y felices pese a su precariedad. Pobres pero felices. El amor, la mayor riqueza. Ambos eran sabios de barriada.
Hace dos mañanas, Fernando no bajó a hacer la compra. Lo encontraron en su cama. En su rostro, paz; tal vez la paz del que vuelve a encontrarse con el amor de su vida.
Texto: Santi Casanova
They count in the neighborhood that Fernando died of grief. His son died three months before him, in a car accident. Fernando lived with him. Both understood each other perfectly for ever. they were joined at the hip.
It was normal to see them do shopping at supermarket every Saturday in the morning. Always together and happy despite their precariousness. Poor but happy. Love, the greatest wealth. Both were wise in the slum.
Two mornings ago, Fernando didn´t go down to do shopping. They found it on his bed. In his face, peace, maybe the peace of the one who comes back to meet with the love of his life.
Traducción; Enrique Llorente
