Que trata de la novela escrita por Paulo Coelho
Os traigo una fábula para seguir vuestros sueños. Empezaremos a leer ‘El Alquimista’. Además de ser un libro corto y enganchante, también es ideal para iniciarse en la lectura. Estoy seguro de que os va a atrapar. Sin más demora, ¡Pongámonos manos a la obra!
Prologue
The Alchemist took a book that someone from the caravan had brought. The volume didn’t have a cover, but he managed to identify its author: Oscar Wilde. While he leafed through it, he found a story about Narcissus. The Alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a handsome boy who every day would go to gaze at his own beauty in the lake. He was so fascinated with his own reflection that, one day, he fell into the lake and drowned. In the spot where he fell sprouted a flower which they called Narcissus. But this was not how Oscar Wilde brought the story to an end. He said that when Narcissus died, the Oreads, the nymphs of the forest, came and saw the lake transformed, from a freshwater lake to a pitcher of salty tears. “Why do you cry?” asked the Oreads. “I cry for Narcissus,” responded the lake. “Oh, it doesn’t surprise us that you cry for Narcissus,” they continued saying, “after all, despite the fact that we all always followed him through the forest, you were the only one that had the opportunity to see his beauty up close. “So, Narcissus was beautiful?” asked the lake. “Who besides you could know? the Oreads responded, surprised. “After all, it was over your shore where he would lean every day.” The lake remained still for a few moments. Finally it said, “I cry for Narcissus, but I had never realized that Narcissus was beautiful. I cry for Narcissus because each time that he leaned over my shore, I could see in the depths of his eyes, my own reflected beauty. “What a lovely story,” said the Alchemist.
Part 1
The boy’s name was Santiago. It began to get dark when he arrived with his flock of sheep at the entrance of an old, abandoned church. The roof had caved in a long time ago and an enormous sycamore tree had grown in the place that used to house the sacristy. He decided to spend the night there. He made all of his sheep enter through the run-down door and then he placed a few pieces of wood over the door so that they could not escape during the night. There weren’t any wolves in that region, but, one time, one of his animals ran away at night and the shepherd spent the entire day after looking for the stray sheep. He laid his jacket out on the ground and he lay down on it, using the book he had just read as a pillow. Before drifting off, he remembered that he needed thicker books. They took longer to read, and in the evening, they made more comfortable pillows. It was still dark when he woke up. He looked up and saw that the stars were shining through the half-collapsed roof. “I would like to sleep a little more,” he thought. He had had the same dream as last week, and again he woke up before reaching the end. He got up and took a sip of wine. Then he grabbed his staff and began to wake up the sheep that were still sleeping. He had noticed that when he would wake up, the majority of the animals would also begin to wake up. As if there were some mysterious energy that linked his life to the lives of his sheep that for two years had been travelling across the land with him in search of water and food. “You’ve all gotten so used to me,” he said quietly, “that you know my schedule.” He reflected on this for a moment and thought that the opposite could also be true: that he had become accustomed to the schedule of the sheep. Nevertheless, there were some sheep that were taking more time to get up. The boy gradually woke the sheep one after another with his staff, calling each by their name. He always believed that the sheep were able to understand what he said to them. That’s why he usually read passages of books that had impressed him to them or talked to them about the loneliness and happiness of a shepherd in the countryside, or told them about the most recent new things that he would see in the cities he tended to pass. However, in the last two days, there had been only one thing on his mind: a girl, the daughter of a trader who lived in the city where he was going to arrive within four days. He had only been there once, the year before. The trader was the owner of a fabric shop and he always liked to see the sheep sheared in his presence to avoid being cheated. A friend of his had pointed out the shop and the shepherd took his sheep there.