Temprano levantó la muerte el vuelo,
(Death departed at dawn)
Temprano madrugó la madrugada,
(The morning’s darkness arrived swiftly)
-Miguel Hernández: “Elegía”.
I believe I had been observing him for several hours, as he slept so peacefully. I say “I believe” because I’m not very good at keeping track of time. It’s possible I watched over him the entire day. The truth is, he looked so beautiful in his lovely clothes while he slept—like a sleeping prince.
We were always together, doing things together. It was already morning, and I had been awake for quite a while, but he continued to sleep. I was starting to feel restless. I wanted him to wake up so we could enjoy our time together and do things together.
What I cannot understand is why he wouldn’t wake up, why he remained asleep, why the neighbours came to see him, why he was lying in a different bed—so ugly, painted in white and grey—and why there were two laurel leaves covering his eyes.
I am just three years old, so there are many things I don’t understand, and the adults don’t explain them to me. However, when those men put a cover on my little brother’s cradle and were about to take him away, I saw my mom rush at them like a wild animal. She hugged the cradle tightly and began screaming like she had lost her mind. What frightened me the most was seeing my dad crying. I had never seen him cry before. I thought men didn’t cry. In that moment, I understood that something really terrible was happening.
Once Mom calmed down, those men picked up my little brother’s hideous bed and loaded it into a carriage that was parked outside. It was a rather unsightly carriage, painted black, with grey-tinted windows, and pulled by two black-furred horses. Then they drove him away.
I never saw him again. I ask Mom about my little brother and when he will be back. She says he is in heaven, where the air is clean. She explains that his lungs were sick, and he had trouble breathing. And the polluted air down here—especially with all the dust stirred by the trucks driving on the dirt road in our neighbourhood—was making things worse for him. Mom says that in heaven he is well. There he can breathe easily because the air is pure. Mom says that one day we'll go to visit him.
© Translated from the Spanish by William Almonte Jiménez, 2012
© Spanish title: “El Príncipe Dormido”
© William Almonte Jiménez, 2011
