Chuva e borboletas/ Rain and butterflies

Escrevi este texto há quase dois anos, quando voltava pra Belém após uma viagem de trabalho. Bem, hoje me deu vontade de publicá-lo no blog, talvez pelo desafio de tentar traduzí-lo para o inglês. Deve ter coisa escrita errada na versão que construí, mas acho que não ficou tão ruim e ainda tenho meu professor britânico para fazer as alterações necessárias. Então, espero que vocês gostem! Bjs!I wrote this story in 2005, during a job trip, while I was watching the death of the butterflies on the road. It was a big challenge to translate from Portuguese to English, but I think it’s not so bad. I’m waiting for Mark’s help (my teacher and friend). But I hope everybody enjoy this piece of writing. I like very much! Lots of hugs!!!

Chuva e borboletas

Quando o tempo fechou e a chuva subiu, as borboletas pararam de se atirar no vidro do carro. Eu devia ter uns sete ou oito anos. Até aquele momento viajava horrorizada, no banco de trás, vendo o massacre silencioso das borboletas enquanto meu pai dirigia.

Estava chocada por não poder fazer nada para evitar o sacrifício das borboletas, mas, também me assustava o fato de meu pai ver tudo aquilo com uma indescritível naturalidade, guiando o veículo cada vez mais rápido e conversando banalidades enquanto as borboletas verdes, brancas, azuis, se espatifavam no pára-brisas.

Foi quando veio a chuva e tudo mudou. O carro foi mais devagar, as borboletas desapareceram e meu horror também se foi, dando lugar ao espanto de ver um espetáculo nunca antes imaginado. A água que vinha do céu, simplesmente, subia pelos
vidros do carro. Centenas e centenas de gotas subiam, num bailar que se espalhava por todos os lados, lutando insistentemente contra a fúria do limpador de pára-brisas – que teimava em mandá-las para baixo.

Os pingos tocavam o vidro e se espalhavam como os fogos de artifício após o estouro no céu. Tudo aquilo acontecia na minha frente e eu ali, extasiada, enquanto meu pai seguia ao volante sem perceber todo aquele milagre de Deus.

De repente, tudo passou. A chuva acabou... o vidro secou... e seguimos nossa
viagem pela longa estrada./When the weather became cloudy and the rain came up, the butterflies stopped commiting suicide by crashing into the windscreen.

I was a seven or eight-year-old child, more or less. Until that moment I was traveling, scared to death, in my seat in the car, where I was watching that silent butterfly massacre while my daddy was driving.

I was totally petrified because I couldn’t do anything to stop the butterflies’ deaths, but I was also scared because my dad just kept driving and he was so calm.

Actually, he kept driving even faster and faster, and talking about ordinary things, while those green, white, blue butterflies, were crashing into the windscreen of the car.

But, suddenly, the rain started to pour and everything changed. The car slowed down and all those butterflies vanished. My fear vanished as well and that bad feeling was replaced with an amazing show that I would never imagine in my whole life.

The water came from the sky, but it was coming up – I said coming UP- on the windscreen. How was it possible? Hundreds and hundreds of water drops were not coming down, but coming up, in a beautiful dance on the windscreen of my dad’s car. And they were fighting against the fury of the windscreen wiper because it kept trying to force them down. So, when the drops touched the windscreen they exploded like fireworks.

All those amazing scenes were happening in front of my eyes, and I was there, sitting delighted, while my dad kept driving and he didn’t notice that whole miracle of God.

Suddenly, all the things vanished. The rain stopped... the windscreen wasn’t wet anymore... and me and my dad kept going along our long journey in the world.