LA NOCHE BOCA ARRIBA And in certain epochs they would go to hunt enemies; They called this the war of flowers. It had to be late, he thought in the middle of the hotel’s long corridor, and hurried onto the street to the motorcycle in the corner where the concierge next door had allowed him to park. In the corner jeweler’s he saw that it was 8:50; he’d arrive where he was going in more. Translate La noche boca arriba. See authoritative translations of La noche boca arriba in English with example sentences and audio pronunciations. L A NOCHE BOCA ARRIBA Halfway down the long hotel vestibule, he thought that probably hewas going to be late, and hurried on into the street to get out hismotorcycle from the corner where the next-door superintendent let himkeep it. On the jewelry store at the corner he read that it was ten to nine;he had time to spare. English translations of all stories and poems for the AP Spanish Literature course and exam. La Noche Boca Arriba La Noche Boca Arriba Julio Cortazar.

La NocheBoca Arriba

JulioCortazar

And in certain epochs they would go to hunt enemies;

It had to be late, he thought in the middle of the hotel’slong corridor, and hurried onto the street to the motorcycle in the cornerwhere the concierge next door had allowed him to park. In the corner jeweler’s he saw that it was8:50; he’d arrive where he was going in more than enough time. The sun filtered through the tall buildingsdowntown and, because he needed no name to think, he got on the machinesavoring the excursion. The bike purredbetween his legs and his pants succumbed to the whips of fresh wind.

The ministries in pink and white went by, then a series ofstores on Central street with brilliant shop windows. Now he entered the most pleasurable part ofthe commute, the true journey: a long street lined with trees with littletraffic and huge villas which let their gardens come up to the pavements,hardly marked by low hedges. Somewhat distracted by perhaps, but keeping to theright side as was proper, he let himself go to the smoothness, to the lighttension of that day hardly begun. Perhaps his involuntary relaxation prevented him from avoiding theaccident. When he saw that the womanstanding at the corner was rushing onto the road despite the green lights, itwas already too late for simple solutions. Straying to the left, he braked with his foot and hand; he heard thewoman’s shouts, and with the collision lost his vision. It was as if he had suddenly fallen asleep.

Having fainted, he woke violently. Four or five young men were pulling out himfrom beneath his cycle. He felt thetaste of salt, the taste of blood, his knee hurt, and he shouted once theylifted him out because the pressure on his right arm was unbearable. Voices that didn’t seem to belong to thefaces suspended above him tried to encourage him with jokes andassurances. His only consolation washearing someone confirm that he had had the right of way crossing thatcorner. Trying to control the nauseastirring in his throat, he asked about the woman. While they were taking him face up to anearby pharmacy, he learned that the reason for the accident didn’t haveanything more than scratches on her legs. “You hardly grazed her, but the collision made your bike jumpsideways.” Opinions, memories: lay himdown slowly; yes, like that; and someone in a workcoat gave him a drink whichrelieved him in the shade of a small neighborhood pharmacy.

The police ambulance arrived within five minutes. They put him onto a white stretcher where hecould lie comfortably. In all lucidity,but knowing that he was still under the effects of a terrible collision, hegave his address to the policeman accompanying him. His arm, he said, almost didn’t hurt him anymore. Blood was pouring out onto hiswhole face from a cut in his brow. Helicked his lips once or twice to drink some. He felt good: it was an accident; bad luck. A few weeks not moving and that’d bethat. The guard told him that hismotorcycle didn’t seem to be too damaged. “Naturally,” he said, “since the whole thing landed on top of me.” They both laughed. Then the guard shook his hand as they arrivedat the hospital and wished him good luck. His nausea was already coming backbit by bit. They took him by gurney tothe back building, passing under trees full of birds. He closed his eyes and wished he were asleepor chloroformed. But they kept him for along time in a room with that hospital smell filling out a form, taking off hisclothes and putting on a grayish, stiff shirt. They moved his arm carefully without causing him any pain. All the while, the nurses were telling jokes. And if it hadn’t been for the contractionsin his stomach, he would have felt very well indeed. Almost happy.

They took him to radiography. Twenty minutes later, with his wet sheetsstill clinging to his breast like a black gravestone, he went on to theoperation room. Someone tall, slim anddressed in white came up to him and began examining the charts. A woman’s hands made his head morecomfortable, and he felt that he was moving from one gurney to another. Smiling, the man in white approached himagain with something shiny in his right hand. He placed his hand on his cheek and signaled to someone standing behindhim.

A strange dream, this, because it was full of smells and hehad never dreamt of smells. First, therewas the smell of a swamp, there on the left side of the road where the marshesbegan, those moving bogs from which no one ever came back. But this smell ceased. It was exchanged for a fragrance bothcomposite and dark like the night in which he moved, fleeing the Aztecs. And all of this was so natural: he had toflee the Aztecs because they were hunting man, and his only chance was to hidein the thickest part of the jungle and to try not to budge from that narrowroad of which only they, the Motecas, knew.

But nothing tortured him more than the smell. It was as if, in absolute acceptance of thedream, something unusual had been revealed that contradicted that dream thatthen later had not been part of the game. “Smells like war,“ he thought, instinctively touching the stone daggeracross his sash of woven wool. Anunexpected sound made him duck and keep still, apart from a slight shiver. There was nothing odd about being afraid: hisnightscapes teemed with fear. He waited, covered by the branches of a shrub andthe night without stars. Very far off,probably on the other side of the great lake, there seemed to be campfires; aresplendent reddish tint filled that part of the sky. The sound did not occur again. Something like a snapped branch. Perhaps an animal who, like he, was escapingthe smell of war. Smelling the airaround him, he straightened slowly. Hedidn’t hear a thing. But fear persistedthere like a smell, that sickly sweet incense that belonged to the war offlowers. He had to keep on; he had toreach the heart of the jungle while evading the marshes. Feeling his way forward, crouching at everyopportunity to touch the hard ground of the road, he took some steps. He would have liked to take off running, butquivering sensations beat at his side. In the path in darkness, he found the course. And then he got a whiff of the smell hefeared most. And desperate, he leaptforward.

“He's going to fall off the bed,” said the patient in thenext bed. “Don’t hop about so much,buddy.”

La Noche Boca Arriba English Translation

La Noche Boca Arriba English Summary

He opened his eyes and it was evening. The sun was already low in the large windowsof the long hall. While he tried smilingat his neighbor, he almost physically peeled himself away from the nightmare’slast vision. His arm, in a plaster cast,was hanging from a device with weights and pulleys. He was thirsty, as if he had run for miles,but they didn’t want to give him much water, hardly enough to wet his lips andtake a mouthful. His fever was risingslowly and he could have fallen asleep again, but he savored the pleasure ofremaining awake, his eyes half−closed, listening to the conversation of theother patients, responding now and then to a question. He saw them bring in a small white trolleyand place it at the side of his bed. Ablonde nurse then wiped the front part of his thigh with alcohol and stuck himwith a thick needle connected to a tube that reached up to a bottle filled withan opaline liquid. Then a young doctorcame over with an apparatus made of metal and leather and adjusted it to hisgood ar