JOSE MARIA ARGUEDAS WARMA KUYAY PDF

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Toggle navigation. Embed Script. Size px x x x x Start Page 1 2 3 4 5. Maninha felt dizzy. She thought of the great world of the poor, the sick, the deformed, to which her brother had gone in an ecstasy of love, never to return. The blood-red twilight appeared to concentrate on the K figure of the boy, which seemed to grow in majesty as he went farther and farther away. Grossman Moonlit night in Viseca Go e. Poor little pigeon, whence have you come, searching the sand, dear God, along the ground?

Ay, Justinita! You love the Kutu, you like his toad face! Celedonia, Pedrucha, Manuela, Anitacha I stayed outside the circle, ashamed, beaten for good. I went off toward the old mill. Eucalyptus trees around the or. It was scary at night. During those hours the Indians would never look at it, and on clear nights always t ed with their backs turned to the mountain. The cholos had stopped in a circle and Justina was singing in the center.

Motionless on the cobbles of the big yard, the Indians looked like those stakes you hang hides on. And I love her, my heart trembles when she laughs, and it cries whenever I see her eyes on the Kutu. So why am I dying for that little black dot? The lute player kept cir cling them, cheering them on, whinnying like n love sick colt.

The lute player ran to the fence and threw stones at the willow, all the cholos fol towing him. Soon it flew off and settled in one of the peach trees in the orchard. Get off to sleep! The Kutu remained alone in the yard. Kutu said nothing till we reached the house above. Kutu and I were alone in the upper hamlet. My ncle and the other people had gone to dig potatoes and would sleep on that small farm, two leagues from the hacienda. We went up the steps, without even looking at each other.

We entered the corridor and made up our beds there so we would be sleeping in the moonlight. The Kutu lay down without speaking: he was sad and trou bled. I sat down beside him. Has Justina given you the brush-off? I was frightened; I thought my heart would break, it was pounding so. I looked at Chawala; it seemed dark and terrible in the stillness of the night. Kutu stood up. He was in great spirits, as if he had just brought down that thief of a puma.

We better go to Justina tonight. Sure thing the patrOn makes you sleep in his room. Let the moon go in so we can start. Let him have it with your sling, Kutu, from across the river, as if he were a prowling puma. There are nine of them! So kill him, Kutucha, even if by gushing a rock off the Capi tana cliff.

Hopeless Indiau! At fourteen, I loved her. Her small breasts were like plump , lemons; they drove me wild. Thinking of this, my suffering was very much like dying. And now? She must have asked for it, she must have! My heart was shaking me again, as if it were stronger than my whgle body.

The two of us better kill her—you want to? He put his hand to my forehead it was damp with sweat. This is how white men love. Leave her alone! Look, the moon is going behind Wayrala. The wind whistled in the darkness, crashing into the peach and eucalyptus trees in the orchard. Farther down, at the bottom of the gorge, the great river sang in its harsh voice.

I despised Kutu. Tiny and cowardly, his yellow eyes made me tremble with rage. At first I went along with him. At night we would sneak into th corral, hiding as we went. We picked out the slenderest, most delicate yearlings; Kutu would spit on his hands, grip the whip hard, and rip open the backs of the young bulls.

A hundred lashes. The lit.. And I? I sat in a corner and en joyed it. I enjoyed it. Until one night my. I jumped out of bed and ran to the door, bare- foot; I slowly turned the lock and stepped out into the gallery.

The moon was already up; its white light washed the ravine; stiff, silent, the trees held their arms up to the sky. I went down the gallery in two eaps, ran across the cobbled alley, jumped the wall of th corral and reached the yearlings. I put my arms around her neck. Kutu, that dirty. Jndian, that dog! A little calf is like a baby. There is no place for you in Viseca, you worth less Indian!

You too. By that foaming river, listening to the singing of the wild pigeons and the arbor vitae, I lived without hope; but she was under the same sky as I, in that ravine that was my nest.

Because my love for Justina was a warma kuyay, I believed I had no right to her yet; I knew that she would have to belong to another, to a grown man who could already handle the long leather thong, who could curse pungently, could fight with whips at the carnivals. Till one day they. They told lots of stories about him, and some tricked out so ijeat it was a pleasure listening to them. Close Save changes. E-mail Back to log-in.

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José María Arguedas

I don't think Warma kuyay ends up happily. He describes himself as someone who is out of place. Living among people he does not understand. He refers to the coastal and western cities. Latin American Lit.

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Since then, critical interest in the work of Arguedas has grown, and the book has been translated into several languages. According to critics, this novel marked the beginning of the current neo-indigenista movement, which presented, for the first time, a reading of indigenous issues from a closer perspective. Most critics agree that this novel is one of Arguedas' masterpieces. The title of the work 'Uku Mayu' in Quechua alludes to the depth of the Andean rivers, which rise in the top of the Andes. It also relates to the solid and ancestral roots of Andean culture, which, according to Arguedas, are the true national identity of Peru. The last years of the s were very fertile for Arguedas' literary production.

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