Me llamáis por si os escucho,
me tendéis trampas de las que huyo.
Me hacéis promesas,
falsas verdades de Perogrullo,
arropadas en simplezas.
Que no necesito cuidaros,
que costáis poco dinero.
It was that time of the year and Ellie was filled with excitement just at the thought of having everyone home for Christmas. The tree was up and had been decorated overnight with sparkling lights and red taffeta ribbons. In the centre of the dining room table, a dark purple candle let out a sweet scent of cinnamon as it burned away in the end of the afternoon light. The fragrance brought happy memories to Ellie’s mind while she set out the Christmas table around it. Plates, glasses and golden napkins…and a cracker for everyone!
The room gave out onto her beautiful country garden that seemed frozen in a painted still life. Out of the window, a robin jumped along the frosted lawn on its way it seemed to its very own Christmas Eve celebration.
Proud of the overall result, Ellie went back to the kitchen to check on the turkey that was slowly cooking in the oven.” I just have the time to change and make myself pretty before they all get here” she thought with a smile.
Artwork by Enrique Cropper
“Happy Christmas” said my wife as she kissed me on the forehead and I realise I have, somewhat unusually, slept in late.
In that instant, lying in bed still half asleep, I feel a sensation that has grown stronger and stronger each year: a sensation of the deep midwinter completeness of Christmas Day.
I flash inside with just the same anticipation I had since I was a kid: good things promise to come. Yet now the excitement of receiving toys and gifts has begun to transform into feelings, that I’m being granted other surprises at Christmas.
(Poème de Noël, en alexandrins)
Je n’aime pas Noël. Je n’aime pas les cadeaux.
Et puis le père Noël, il est gros et pas beau.
Acheter des cadeaux, se faire péter le foie,
être heureux à date fixe, vraiment très peu pour moi.
Je hais ces réunions, elles me sont imposées,
et la dinde aux marrons me donne la nausée.
Alors un beau matin, j’ai pris une décision.
Mon courage à deux mains. Il est temps de dire non !
The door opened silently and she came into the bedroom. White light filtered through the closed curtains. She guessed that the moon was high in the sky. The smells of the seasonal cooking still lingered in the air and she could sense the sweet perfume of stewed cranberries, orange peel and mincemeat pies. There was a complete silence as she moved slowly towards the bed.
– Maya…- she whispered.
There was no answer so she moved a little closer.
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