百年孤独是什么文学的代表作 世纪文学经典:《百年孤独》第20章Part7

世纪文学经典:《百年孤独》第20章Part7  

He could not find the basket. At first he felt an outburst of joy
thinking that Amaranta ?rsula had awakened from death to take care of the child. But her corpse was a pile of stones under the blanket. Aware that when he arrived he had found the -door to the bedroom open
Aureliano went across the porch which was saturated with the morning sighs of oregano and looked into the dining room
where the remnants of the birth still lay: the large pot
the bloody sheets
the jars of ashes
and the isted umbilical cord of the child on an opened diaper on the table next to the shears and the fishline. The idea that the midwife had returned for the child during the night gave him a pause of rest in which to think. He sank into the rocking chair
the same one in which Rebeca had sat during the early days of the house to give embroidery lessons
and in which Amaranta had played Chinese checkers with Colonel Gerineldo Márquez
and in which Amaranta ?rsula had sewn the tiny clothing for the child
and in that flash oflucidity he became aware that he was unable to bear in his soul the crushing weight of so much past. Wounded by the fatal lances of his own nostalgia and that of others
he admired the persistence of the spider webs on the dead rose bushes
the perseverance of the rye grass
the patience of the air in the radiant February dawn.
And then he saw the child. It was a dry and bloated bag of skin that all the ants in the world were dragging toward their holes along the stone path in the garden. Aureliano could not move. Not because he was paralyzed by horror but because at that prodigious instant Melquíades?final keys were revealed to him and he saw the epigraph of the parchments perfectly placed in the order of man’s time and space: The first of the line is tied to a tree and the last is being eaten by the ants.