Creyéndome ya a una altura prodigiosa, muy por encima de las odiadas ramas del bosque, me incorporé fatigosamente y tanteé la pared en busca de alguna ventana que me permitiese mirar por vez primera el cielo y esa luna y esas estrellas sobre las que había leído. Pero ambas manos me decepcionaron, ya que todo cuanto hallé fueron amplias estanterías de mármol cubiertas de aborrecibles cajas oblongas de inquietante dimensión. Más reflexionaba y más me preguntaba qué extraños secretos podía albergar aquel alto recinto construido a tan inmensa distancia del castillo subyacente. De pronto mis manos tropezaron inesperadamente con el marco de una puerta, del cual colgaba una plancha de piedra de superficie rugosa a causa de las extrañas incisiones que la cubrían. La puerta estaba cerrada, pero haciendo un supremo esfuerzo superé todos los obstáculos y la abrí hacia adentro. Hecho esto, me invadió el éxtasis más puro jamás conocido; a través de una ornamentada verja de hierro, y en el extremo de una corta escalinata de piedra que ascendía desde la puerta recién descubierta, brillando plácidamente en todo su esplendor estaba la luna llena, a la que nunca había visto antes, salvo en sueños y en vagas visiones que no me atrevía a llamar recuerdos. Esa sensación de perder identidad, liver arriba y abajo. Anuncios por palabras y bucinazos teledirigidos. No se ni a quien puede dirigirse. Aquel furgon pick up estaba para el arrastre, ademas coincidimos en la piscina haciendo unos largos. Entre boyas se oian los silvidos de los que mas tarde fueron fusilados o ejecutados sin previo aviso. Todo el bullicio de anclaba y bajan las ventas indirectas para vagabundos.
La versión gallega del Leprechaun es el Trasno, que se nombra en el tradicional conjuro de la queimada. En las regiones de Asturias, Cantabria y León en el norte de España, se le identifica con la figura del trasgo o trasgu.
"The name Lepracaun," Mr. Douglas Hyde writes to me, "is from the Irish leith brog--i.e., the One-shoemaker, since he is generally seen working at a single shoe. It is spelt in Irish leith bhrogan, or leith phrogan, and is in some places pronounced Luchryman, as O'Kearney writes it in that very rare book, the Feis Tigh Chonain."
The Lepracaun, Cluricaun, and Far Darrig. Are these one spirit in different moods and shapes? Hardly two Irish writers are agreed. In many things these three fairies, if three, resemble each other. They are withered, old, and solitary, in every way unlike the sociable spirits of the first sections. They dress with all unfairy homeliness, and are, indeed, most sluttish, slouching, jeering, mischievous phantoms. They are the great practical jokers among the good people.
The Lepracaun makes shoes continually, and has grown very rich. Many treasure-crocks, buried of old in war-time, has he now for his own. In the early part of this century, according to Croker, in a newspaper office in Tipperary, they used to show a little shoe forgotten by a Lepracaun.
The Cluricaun, (Clobhair-ceann, in O'Kearney) makes himself drunk in gentlemen's cellars. Some suppose he is merely the Lepracaun on a spree. He is almost unknown in Connaught and the north.
The Far Darrig (fear dearg), which means the Red Man, for he wears a red cap and coat, busies himself with practical joking, especially with gruesome joking. This he does, and nothing else.
p. 81
The Fear-Gorta (Man of Hunger) is an emaciated phantom that goes through the land in famine time, begging an alms and bringing good luck to the giver.
There are other solitary fairies, such as the House-spirit and the Water-sheerie, own brother to the English Jack-o'-Lantern; the Pooka and the Banshee--concerning these presently; the Dallahan, or headless phantom--one used to stand in a Sligo street on dark nights till lately; the Black Dog, a form, perhaps, of the Pooka. The ships at the Sligo quays are haunted sometimes by this spirit, who announces his presence by a sound like the flinging of all "the tin porringers in the world" down into the hold. He even follows them to sea.
The Leanhaun Shee (fairy mistress), seeks the love of mortals. If they refuse, she must be their slave; if they consent, they are hers, and can only escape by finding another to take their place. The fairy lives on their life, and they waste away. Death is no escape from her. She is the Gaelic muse, for she gives inspiration to those she persecutes. The Gaelic poets die young, for she is restless, and will not let them remain long on earth--this malignant phantom.
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