"No se preocupen" fueron las palabras de Dag, que hicieron que todo se paralizara.
Dag era un hombre de madera con dos grandes clinejas, que se la pasaba todo el día acostado en el pasto, mirando el cielo, narrando historias y explicando lo que allí sucedía. Todos se agrupaban a su alrededor, les emocionaba oír cómo las nubes jugando contra las estrellas lograban que la vía láctea nutriera los planetas o el relato de los anillos de Saturno y su compromiso con la Luna. Cada relato cobraba vida y hacía del firmamento un espectáculo de luces, colores y sonidos.
Eran famosas las noches con el narrador de historias. Gracias a él, el pueblo miraba el cielo y se emocionaba, las personas vivían con su mirada levantada, el cielo se convirtió en la pantalla que a todos entretenía, pero eso cambió aquella tarde.
Dag se levantó, caminó hacia la plaza del pueblo, sin mirar el cielo. Todos lo acompañaban sin decir nada. Al llegar a la plaza se acercó a un vidrio grande que allí estaba, comenzó a trazar líneas y agachándose, tomó tierra que utilizó para pintar lo trazado.
Las personas se alejaron tristes. Todo el que por allí pasaba observaba lo que estaba trazado, comprendiendo que no volverían a mirar el cielo en su esplendor y belleza.
The storyteller
"Don't worry" were Dag's words, which brought everything to a standstill.
Dag was a wooden man with two large clinejas, who spent the whole day lying on the grass, looking at the sky, telling stories and explaining what was happening there. Everyone would gather around him, thrilled to hear how the clouds playing against the stars made the Milky Way nourish the planets or the story of Saturn's rings and its engagement with the moon. Each story came to life and made the firmament a spectacle of lights, colors and sounds.
The nights with the storyteller were famous. Thanks to him, the people looked at the sky and were excited, people lived with their eyes lifted, the sky became the screen that entertained everyone, but that changed that evening.
Dag got up, walked to the town square, without looking at the sky. Everyone accompanied him without saying anything. When he reached the square, he approached a large glass pane that was there, began to draw lines and bending down, he picked up some earth that he used to paint what he had drawn.
The people moved away sadly. Everyone who passed by looked at what was drawn, realizing that they would never again look at the sky in its splendor and beauty.
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