Remembering One Hundred Years of Solitude

Una noche, cuando lo tenía en el vientre, lo oyó llorar. Fue un lamento tan definido, que José Arcadio Buendía despertó a su lado y se alegró con la idea de que el niño iba a ser ventrílocuo. Otras personas pronosticaron que sería adivino. Ella, en cambio, se estremeció con la certidumbre de que aquel bramido profundo era un primer indicio de la temible cola de cerdo, y rogó a Dios que le dejara morir la criatura en el vientre. Pero la lucidez de la decrepitud le permitió ver, y así lo repitió muchas veces, que el llanto de los niños en el vientre de la madre no es un anuncio de ventriloquia ni de facultad adivinatoria, sino una señal inequívoca de incapacidad para el amor.

Gabriel García Márquez, Cien años de Soledad

This is a beautiful quote on multiple levels. Here's a DeepL translation in English.

One night, when she had him in her womb, she heard him cry. It was such a definite wailing that José Arcadio Buendía woke up next to her and rejoiced with the idea that the child was going to be a ventriloquist. Other people predicted that he would be a fortune teller. She, on the other hand, shuddered with the certainty that that deep bellowing was a first sign of the dreaded pig's tail, and prayed God to let her baby die in her womb. But the lucidity of decrepitude enabled her to see, and she repeated it many times, that the crying of children in the mother's womb is not an announcement of ventriloquism or of a divinatory faculty, but an unmistakable sign of incapacity for love.

Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

The language flows beautifully. The pig's tail is the star of the show. It appears throughout the story, and it is based on the folkloric belief of the region that certain behaviours can lead to the dire consequence of a child being born with the tail of a pig. It is genius that Marquez played with this idea and made it real in his magical kind of way.