Thursday

From there she could see the blossoming tree top of her beloved tamarind tree, the inlet agitated by the glistening of the waves from the northern wind and its part of the firmament. Soon night fell and a slow rhythm could be made out in the air. It was still almost invisible. A beam of light, a warning to seafarers. She knew then that the heavy lighthouse lens had started to rotate, at the mercy of its gears, above the watertight mortar of mercury.

She turned on a light built into Portuguese terracotta that gave off ambiance lighting, and little clarity. This warm semidarkness was her shelter in the dormer window, the end of the day, and the call for sleep.



Desde allí veía la copa florecida del tamarindo amado, la ensenada agitada por el cabrilleo de las olas de la tramontana y su porción del firmamento. Pronto cayó la noche y una lenta cadencia se columbraba en el aire. Casi invisible todavía. Un haz de luz, aviso para navegantes. Supo entonces que la pesada lente del faro había comenzado a rotar, a merced de sus engranajes, sobre el estanco mortero de mercurio.

Encendió una luz empotrada en una terracota portuguesa que daba ambiente, pero escasa claridad. Esa penumbra cálida era su cobijo en la buhardilla, el fin de la jornada y la llamada del sueño.

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