Cuentos de amor de locura y de muerte es un libro de cuentos de Horacio Quiroga publicado El almohadón de plumas · El perro rabioso (relato excluido a partir de la tercera edición); A la deriva · La insolación · El alambre de púa · Los . La insolación. Español. Book ID: La insolación. Book cover may not be accurate (+) Horacio Quiroga (23 books). Wikipedia: See this author on. PARA LEER: La insolación Horacio Quiroga, cuentista sinfin. com/la-insolacion/.

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He could feel it in the air, as if the inside of his head was pushing his skull outward. Each one laid down under a cotton plant, their panting accompanied by the dull thuds of the hoe.

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The others got up also, but with their hackles on high alert. He brought it back and sharpened the grille, but a bolt that he noticed as flawed when he bought the machine broke when he put it back into place.

The Indians shared the dogs who returned immediately to being skinny and mangy dogs, who go out stealthily every night to steal ears of corn from the far off fields. Goodreads helps you keep track of books you want to read. There was not a single cloud or gust of wind. He looked at his paws without moving them, deciding finally to sniff them. The peones went back to the plow around two despite the scorching sun, because, well, weeds grow endlessly in the cotton fields.

The four dogs stood together growling quietly, without taking their eyes off Mister Jones who remained still, staring at them. A small bleak plain of clay shimmered in front of them, where no one had ever attempted to plow. There was no screw: Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here Debb Nitram rated it did not like it Aug 21, Old got up onto his paws wagging his tail.

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This site uses cookies. He soon gave up and joined the group in their defensive fly hunt.

Irina Karlen added it Apr 26, They watched him flow through the fence, but immediately believed their eyes deceived them; he stopped a few hundred meters from them, looked over the group with his celestial eyes and continued forward.

Mister Jones convinced himself that he had overstepped his limits. Old, the puppy, went out through the door and crossed the patio with a slow and upright gait. One by one the pack grew with the arrival of the other members: Books by Horacio Quiroga.

Behind them came the dogs, who loved farming ever since last winter when they learned to battle falcons for the white worms exposed from freshly-tilled earth. While bathing, the dogs inzolacion closer and sniffed his boots, lazily wagging their tails.

Under the calm of the golden sky, the fields gave off an invigorating freshness that brought out the hopeful spirit against the certainty of another dry qukroga, melancholy for better paying work. Old did not know what he was talking about. The arched bushels that crested at the height of his chest twisted themselves together into a solid block.

La Insolación / Sunstroke – Translated Works of Horacio Quiroga

After an hour, they raised their heads; for on the far side of the odd two-story ranch—the bottom floor was made from mud and the second made from wood, with hallways and cottage qurioga they could sense the steps of their master coming down the stairs.

They growled at the slightest horavio without knowing where it came from. The others had seen him too, and barked with their hackles on end.

He ate lunch and laid down for a siesta. Like trained animals, the dogs recognized the smallest indication of drunkenness in their master.

La insolación

The whole morning he did nothing. You are commenting using your Facebook account. There, the puppy all of a sudden saw Mister Jones sitting on a log, looking at them fiercely. Mister Jones dared to cross it anyway, swimming between the resilient and pollen-filled straw from flooded clayfields, he was drowned by fatigue and acres of nitrate-filled steam.


He quickly ate lunch and got on. Mister Jones stopped, turned, and collapsed. He began to walk again.

Finally, the sun sank behind the black line of palms above the riverbed, and in the calm of the silver night, the dogs positioned themselves around the ranch, where in the top floor Mister Jones recommenced his hidden abuse.

Finally, the fear of loneliness got to them and they trotted sluggishly after him. Mister Moore, his half-brother, came from Buenos Aires, stayed an hour at the chacra and without four days sold everything, returning immediately down south.

The puppy, with subtle remembrance, turned his head, comparing the two, towards his Master and barked. The others, without responding, began to bark furiously, with a relentless attitude of fearful attack. Some two hundred meters out, the hill cut off the horizon on all three sides by the corn fields. He also excelled in portraying mental illness and hallucinatory states. The fox-terriers walked back to the ranch. The dogs arched their backs and stood on their toes, barking with restrained fury at the Death that drew closer.

Their eyes turned indifferently towards a passing ox, and continued their customary stare of the land. The puppy, incredulous, began to walk over when Prince showed him his teeth.

Without moving, Mister Jones faded into the shivering air. Death, looking for the Master, had fused with the horse.

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He blamed him with all rational logic, a point at which the worker responded with evasive reasoning. Hearing the howls, the peones looked out over the horizon but saw nothing.

He still had a look of death, his lip twitching after his veiled night of whisky was put off longer than usual.