ESPAÑOL
León era un mentiroso genial. Cada vez que podía hablar con él, siempre terminaba preguntándome cuánto de lo que dijo era verdad y cuánto no lo era. He llegado a pensar que ni su nombre era real porque de León sólo tenía eso: su nombre. Era un hombre tan pacífico y taimado que compararlo con el rey de la selva era un chiste. León era el encargado de un viejo bar en el barrio y era de esos hombres imposibles de ignorar mientras hablaba. Su imaginación era de una maravillosa creatividad y no era difícil mirar a varios oyentes escuchando, como encantados, sus aventuras pescando tortugas gigantes cuyo caparazón convertía en canoa o de cómo pudo domesticar a un caballo volador que se le apareció una vez cerca del río.
La última vez que hablé con él, fue cuando en medio de unas cervezas que decidí tomarme esa tarde de hace dos semanas, me contó que se había enamorado. Como era habitual en mí, terminé dándole más crédito a la duda que a la certeza así que me dejé llevar por el entusiasmo de su conversación y las refrescantes birras. Me contó que era una mujer contemporánea con él, de unos cuarenta años, blanca, de ojos café y cabello castaño. La conocía desde hacía varios años, ya que era vecina del barrio. Les confieso que jamás había visto los ojos de León con el brillo que tenían esa tarde.
Mientras atendía a otros clientes, en cada pausa volvía hasta donde estaba yo y en voz baja, me decía de los encantos de aquella mujer. Contaba de su simpatía, de su cálida sonrisa y decía emocionado que estaba esperando el fin de semana para comprarle unas flores e invitarla a cenar. Quién lo iba a creer! León, enamorado. Ya en mi quinta cerveza, sin embargo, el rostro del pretendiente tomó un tono distinto. Jamás, en los años que llevo conociéndole, había ha visto a León tan preocupado y triste. Por supuesto que ante ese cuadro, lógicamente le pregunté qué le ocurría. Por qué esa cara tan diferente a la que exhibía hacía apenas unos minutos. Me quedó mirando con seriedad y con un dolor profundo, que le salió de un alma muy sentida, me dijo:
- Ella no me cree! Nada de lo que le he dicho sobre el amor que siento por ella, le parece verdad. Y eso me tiene el alma desgarrada, mi estimado amigo.
Fue la única vez en la vida que vi una lágrima en los ojos de León. Luego de esa tarde, nadie lo volvió a mirar y aún hoy la gente se pregunta si aquel hombre de sonrisa amplia y genial imaginación, existió o no.
ENGLISH
Leon was a great liar. Whenever I could talk to him, I always ended up wondering how much of what he said was true and how much was not. I came to think that his name wasn't even real because that's all he had of Leon: his name. He was such a peaceful and devious man that comparing him to the king of the jungle was a joke. Leon was the manager of an old bar in the neighborhood and was one of those men impossible to ignore as he spoke. His imagination was wonderfully creative and it was not difficult to watch several listeners listening, as if enchanted, to his adventures fishing for giant turtles whose shells he turned into canoes or how he was able to tame a flying horse that once appeared to him near the river.
The last time I talked to him was when, in the middle of a few beers I decided to have that afternoon two weeks ago, he told me that he had fallen in love. As was usual for me, I ended up giving more credence to doubt than to certainty and got carried away by the enthusiasm of his conversation and the refreshing beers. He told me that she was a woman contemporary with him, in her forties, white, with brown eyes and brown hair. I had known her for several years, as she was a neighbor in the neighborhood. I confess that I had never seen Leon's eyes as bright as they were that afternoon.
While he was attending to other customers, at every pause he would come back to where I was and in a low voice, he would tell me about the charms of that woman. He told of her friendliness, her warm smile and said excitedly that he was waiting for the weekend to buy her some flowers and invite her to dinner. Who would have believed it! Leon, in love. By my fifth beer, however, the suitor's face took on a different tone. Never, in all the years I have known him, had I seen Leon so worried and sad. Of course, faced with this picture, I naturally asked him what was wrong. Why was his face so different from the one he had been wearing just a few minutes before? He looked at me seriously and with a deep pain, which came from a very heartfelt soul, he told me
- She doesn't believe me! None of what I have told her about the love I feel for her seems true to her. And that has torn my soul, my dear friend.
It was the only time in my life that I ever saw a tear in Leon's eyes. After that afternoon, no one ever looked at him again and even today people wonder whether or not that man with the broad smile and brilliant imagination ever existed.