У Меча Предназначения два острия. Одно из них - ты.
Что ж, Ян выкладывает вторую главу JTMAE, я выкладываю часть собственноручного перевода первой главы. Эдакий тизер.
Надеюсь, что через 4 года после моего самого первого транслейшна, я стала переводить хоть немножечко лучше.
Весь фидбек Яну, произведение его, от всех прав отказываюсь.
Итак, сей текст был переведен мною, aka Линде Лу, при тесном *shy* сотрудничестве с Истредд.
Upd. Небольшая поправочка, теперь тут уже полноценная глава )
1. On the edge of imperfect world.
It seems like I’m burning with fever.
The fire doesn’t go away no matter how ask it to. But why? Only I can choose the world to live in. Or not?
Cold air wounds my lungs. I have to wrap tighter in my cloak, which still doesn’t protect from the gusts of icy wind. I’m afraid to take a look around. Dimmed lantern light and heavy foul sky, which burns slowly, breaking into tiny coal black snowflakes. It reminds me of Hell.
читать дальшеMy feelings are playing a cruel joke on me. I hear someone’s footsteps and husky breath behind me. I feel this glance full of filthy lust and contempt. What a strange match… My partner has absolutely no taste. Extra confirmation of this is the suffocating smell of his cologne - breathing it in is even more painful than feeling the cold February air in my lungs.
I turn around in a spur of a moment, hoping to catch him off guard.
I’m having a fever, I’m sure of it now.
But why do I see black snow melting from the still fresh, hot bloody track?
***
— Weird dreams you have, buddy. You’re seriously ill.
— Thanks for depressing output.
My companion is an eccentric man, however, among my friends he is the most sensible. He combines incompatible within him: a classic suit, over which he is wearing a bloodied apron, similar to those that butchers have; courtesy and manners of a true intellectual, diluted with crude bluntness of a complete cynic; a delicate wreath of white chrysanthemums, necessarily in a number of thirteen and…
— Chrysanthemums are the flowers of death and mourning, Ian, — he finished my thought.
The name to this ideal imperfection is Executioner.
— The only thing that matches in you is the paleness of your skin and ruby color of your hair, — I said gently. — I always liked the combination of white and red.
— Thanks, I’m flattered. And yet, let’s return to our main topic. What makes you so worried? Why don’t you stop self-torture? Convince me that’s not pointless.
— I’m guilty for her death and for what’s happening to the world. Is this reason convincing enough?
— It is, — he nods.
It’s a pity I’ve never seen his eyes. They are hidden behind long crimson tresses, falling on his face. The Executioner isn’t blind. Most likely, he just doesn’t want to see anything around him.
The room we were in was small and obscure. Shabby black wallpaper, awkward antique furniture, annoying creaking floor and ceiling, which appeared to be a clockwork. I loved to gaze upon it, fascinated with endless motion of gears.
— I want to ask something.
— Shoot it, — the Executioner smiled graciously.
— If here’s a clock mechanism, is there an hourplate located on the roof?
— Oh God, Ian, you asked this almost a thousand times already, — my companion sighed and shook his head. — There is no houplate.
— It can’t be! — I objected stubbornly, skipping the Executioner’s comment past ears. — Otherwise why would it be here? A useless thing in a perfect world? There must be an hourplate, I’m sure of it.
— There is, — strange, why did he agree so indifferently. I voiced my question of course. — Because you are the owner of this world. Your desire is the law.
— But why can’t I see your eyes then?
— Because this world belongs to me also. And I don’t want you to see my eyes. Now stop talking about distract themes. How are you doing?
— You’re right, — I sighed. — I think I’m better. The wounds stopped stinging.
— How is she doing?
— Executioner, you can’t imagine how it pains me to see feeling and emotions, intended for her, dying. Those, which made her a female. If she wouldn’t listen to fools that once surrounded her, she could be much happier now. Now I can only regret… I contain her unspent tender feelings, but I don’t have the strength to give a spark…
— I think you should talk to Yosse about it. Alas and alack, I’m not a heart-mender and you know that.
— Well, apparently I have to go, — I was able to pull myself together, but my body refused to obey: I got up from the couch, swaying like a drunk. — Best wishes, Executioner, and thanks for hearing me out.
— Same to you, — he smirked, seeing me off.
***
I wouldn't say my well-being is actually well.
I was having a headache, which hurt so hard, I felt the nausea as well. Each step was given by incredible difficulty. As if the body rebelled against the lifestyle I led for about three-four months already. Though, how can I speak of a body if I’m not real.
My home is very close to the Executioner’s place. Just cross the beloved field of white chrysanthemums… I would usually walk for hours in the field, admiring the turquoise sky, which always smelled of rain; weave chaplets of flowers and give them to the Executioner as gifts… But now, this place scared me. Dried darkened petals of withered chrysanthemums, the rumble of thunder and piercing wind forced me to panic. I quickened my step and drew a relieved sigh only when saw the familiar door with combination lock.
I lived in the most ordinary four-story apartment building, which looks exactly the same as many others in any city. But for me it is most uncommon. It is mine.
Echoes of the steps resonating in the stairwell, darkness… Damaged walls, covered with vulgarities and blood spots. I would have it all repaired, if I didn’t lack strength to do it. There’s no one living here besides me, and the awareness of my loneliness often makes me sad. Emptiness absorbs all the living, but as far as I have friends, I have nothing to fear.
The door to my apartment was opened wide, it seems to become a normal thing and doesn’t surprise me anymore.
A blond man met me in the hallway, there was a bit of a lunatic in him. He was dressed in a white kimono, stained with blue paint and… blood? It wasn’t matched by size, and every now and then strove to slip off from my guest’s fragile shoulders. His tranquil cherry-colored eyes looked rather scary in the shadows, but I was quite use to it.
Yosse doesn’t wish me harm, he’s always smiling to me. Even now I see that warm smile, though corcern is readable in his eyes.
It’s a pity that Yosse is mute. I haven’t heard a sound from him, for all the time we know each other.
— Yosse, well, how many times shall I repeat – don’t come inside when I’m not home, — I said with a mild reproach.
He looked away guiltily and shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed. However, the next moment he was already beside me. I saw a blue rose in his hands.
— What? Why did you bring it? — my heart sank. Blue roses reminded me of the Dark One...
Yosse just shook his head in response and pressed his forefinger to his lips. With a little thought, I accepted his gift. As soon as I touched the flower, its petals turned pale pink. Is there a new acquaintance waiting for me?
My thoughts were interrupted by Yosse’s intent and dissatisfied glare. We were still standing in the hallway. Oh, how rude of me!
— Forgive me, I’m not myself today. Absent-minded somehow. Come in to the living room, I’ll make us some tea. You like yours white, I know.
Yosse put his right hand to his chest and shook his head negatively. It means, he’s not for long. And his sudden visit has a definite goal.
— Well, fine then, — I agreed, but didn’t get a chance to make a question of what did he come for as Yosse suddenly grabbed my wrist and for some reason dragged me into the bedroom. He made me sit down on the windowsill there and hugged me, smiling.
He missed me. We haven’t seen each other for along time. I hugged him back and couldn’t help feeling happy there’s something warm and gentle still left in my world. Like our friendship.
— Tell me, how’s Aydjanni? — I asked when Yosse pulled away. — I haven’t seen him for a great while.
“He’s alright. He longs for you but I can’t let him visit you so far. And you don’t have any wishes, do you?”
Yosse always communicated with me mentally, I liked it a lot better than the usual dialog. In this case, the expression “being secretive” is best suited.
— You’re right, I don’t want anything except peace. However, if I would find Tajexis somehow…
“Aydjanni advised you to look somewhere nearby. He’s sure Tajexis is only two steps away from you.”
Tajexis… The one I need to regain myself back. Though, finding him seems to be impossible. He must be a guest from the imperfect world. But how can I trust people after what the Dark One has done tome?
“You shouldn’t have brought him here, and you yourself know that. I’ve warned you repeatedly what your rash actions are fraught with. Aydjanni have always disliked this man, and the Executioner despised him from the very beginning. You have to listen to what they call an inner voice.”
— I understand that now. Oh, Yosse, if only I could turn back time… Why did I think the Dark One was closer to me than you are? I’m so ashamed of myself in front of you, Aydjanni, the Executioner…
“Don’t grieve, Ian. Your disease mustn’t progress. Just try to believe. I have to go now. Aydjanni is afraid of staying alone and I don’t want to leave him for a long time.”
— Okay... Come more often, will you?
He nodded. Embraced me once more, parting, and left me sitting on the windowsill, confused and bewildered. The rose laid next to me. Its petals were as flossy as silk of Yosse’s kimono. I didn’t know what did this gift mean, what did it symbolize.
And, to be fair, I didn’t want to think about it right now.
Goodnight, world. I’m way too tired today.
***
— I’m sorry, but I don’t get it, — Igor returned the test results to psychiatrist. — Could you explain it if possible, please?
— I can’t say for sure, but… It’s either “temporal” or dissociative identity disorder. I’m more inclined to the first, since all of Yana’s stories are more like fiction. It doesn’t seem to be something terrible, but… — Nicolai pulled from a folder a sheet of paper, scribbled along and across, and handed it to Igor. — That’s what she wrote today, after the test.
“There, on the edge of my perfect world, I’ll be waiting for you.”
— What does it mean? — the young man frowned.
— Yana told me to give it to you, — the psychiatrist shrugged his shoulders. — To be precise, he asked me to pass it. So I’m interested only in him. It may be just an imaginary friend. Never the less, there is a chance that it may be an alter-ego.
— That’s how… — Igor was taken aback. Probably for the first time in his life. Two years ago Yana’s friends and relatives started to complain about her “bizarre behavior”. Previously sociable and cheerful girl suddenly became self-contained and sullen, sometimes easily irritable and even aggressive. Yana herself grew tired of it eventually and asked Igor to find a good shrink to consult her.
— Psychologist won’t help here anymore. I can feel some other changes, much more serious… — she told him honestly. — Please, find a therapist, before it’s too late. I’m going crazy…
Still, she never talked to him about her problems. And Igor tried not to put up the subject. He didn’t want his beloved to get more upset than she already was.
— Come back in a week, — Nicolai interrupted his thoughts. — I’ll try to get something out of him.
***
Swing. The rise and the fall, heaven and earth…
It’s just like a ghost of my childhood. I can’t recall how was it. Perhaps iridescent and carefree. Sky, don’t let me go anymore, don’t let me go! I don’t want to return to the cold reality of upcoming day!
Stars, so many of them. They are so bright, so different, like the sparks of fireworks. I smile, barely holding back the tearsof happiness. I have never felt so good before.
— Hello, honey.
That voice. My heart seems to have stopped. No, it can’t be, never… Why in this very dream?
— I love you.
— Liar!— I cried furiously. — Get the hell out of here!
— Why are you running from yourself and your feelings, Ian? You refuse to explain anything and banish me like a filthy scum, — a step towards me. The stars are going out, they’re hiding behind the thunderclouds, the air becomes heavy, the red mist descends upon town.
— You poison me and my world. Vanish. I do not want to see you.
The tall figure in a black cloak, my nightmare, my curse. My ex-friend, my former lover. Our ways parted forever more than a month ago. It seemed like everything was decided, like everything was said…
But…
It is impossible to peel away the parasite, without giving him at least a drop of your own blood. And sometimes it is already too late when you determine who was the bloodsucker. The least one, from who you expect such a betrayal and arrogance, is a loved one, but now I've realized the simple truth. Loved one should always be the first one in the list of suspects.That’s how the imperfect world is settled. The closest people cause the most severe pain, incomparable with anything else you ever felt.
The Dark One lacerated me and killed my bright half, Aslan. I haven’t yet reconciled with the fact she is no longer here. And I vowed revenge.
The Executioner repeated to me the banal truth about revenge – a dish that must be served cold. That’s why I waited patiently for anger and pain to quiet down.
— I’ll come back and restore thee, beloved! — the Dark One faded away in crimson mist. Only now I understand how much it hurts me to breathe in this poisoned air. Crimson fog brings pain. It’s just like the black snow which reminds me of the existence of Hell.
For how long will this Hell persecute me?
There, on the edge of perfect world, I’ll be waiting for you, Tajexis…
Надеюсь, что через 4 года после моего самого первого транслейшна, я стала переводить хоть немножечко лучше.
Весь фидбек Яну, произведение его, от всех прав отказываюсь.
Итак, сей текст был переведен мною, aka Линде Лу, при тесном *shy* сотрудничестве с Истредд.
Upd. Небольшая поправочка, теперь тут уже полноценная глава )
1. On the edge of imperfect world.
It seems like I’m burning with fever.
The fire doesn’t go away no matter how ask it to. But why? Only I can choose the world to live in. Or not?
Cold air wounds my lungs. I have to wrap tighter in my cloak, which still doesn’t protect from the gusts of icy wind. I’m afraid to take a look around. Dimmed lantern light and heavy foul sky, which burns slowly, breaking into tiny coal black snowflakes. It reminds me of Hell.
читать дальшеMy feelings are playing a cruel joke on me. I hear someone’s footsteps and husky breath behind me. I feel this glance full of filthy lust and contempt. What a strange match… My partner has absolutely no taste. Extra confirmation of this is the suffocating smell of his cologne - breathing it in is even more painful than feeling the cold February air in my lungs.
I turn around in a spur of a moment, hoping to catch him off guard.
I’m having a fever, I’m sure of it now.
But why do I see black snow melting from the still fresh, hot bloody track?
***
— Weird dreams you have, buddy. You’re seriously ill.
— Thanks for depressing output.
My companion is an eccentric man, however, among my friends he is the most sensible. He combines incompatible within him: a classic suit, over which he is wearing a bloodied apron, similar to those that butchers have; courtesy and manners of a true intellectual, diluted with crude bluntness of a complete cynic; a delicate wreath of white chrysanthemums, necessarily in a number of thirteen and…
— Chrysanthemums are the flowers of death and mourning, Ian, — he finished my thought.
The name to this ideal imperfection is Executioner.
— The only thing that matches in you is the paleness of your skin and ruby color of your hair, — I said gently. — I always liked the combination of white and red.
— Thanks, I’m flattered. And yet, let’s return to our main topic. What makes you so worried? Why don’t you stop self-torture? Convince me that’s not pointless.
— I’m guilty for her death and for what’s happening to the world. Is this reason convincing enough?
— It is, — he nods.
It’s a pity I’ve never seen his eyes. They are hidden behind long crimson tresses, falling on his face. The Executioner isn’t blind. Most likely, he just doesn’t want to see anything around him.
The room we were in was small and obscure. Shabby black wallpaper, awkward antique furniture, annoying creaking floor and ceiling, which appeared to be a clockwork. I loved to gaze upon it, fascinated with endless motion of gears.
— I want to ask something.
— Shoot it, — the Executioner smiled graciously.
— If here’s a clock mechanism, is there an hourplate located on the roof?
— Oh God, Ian, you asked this almost a thousand times already, — my companion sighed and shook his head. — There is no houplate.
— It can’t be! — I objected stubbornly, skipping the Executioner’s comment past ears. — Otherwise why would it be here? A useless thing in a perfect world? There must be an hourplate, I’m sure of it.
— There is, — strange, why did he agree so indifferently. I voiced my question of course. — Because you are the owner of this world. Your desire is the law.
— But why can’t I see your eyes then?
— Because this world belongs to me also. And I don’t want you to see my eyes. Now stop talking about distract themes. How are you doing?
— You’re right, — I sighed. — I think I’m better. The wounds stopped stinging.
— How is she doing?
— Executioner, you can’t imagine how it pains me to see feeling and emotions, intended for her, dying. Those, which made her a female. If she wouldn’t listen to fools that once surrounded her, she could be much happier now. Now I can only regret… I contain her unspent tender feelings, but I don’t have the strength to give a spark…
— I think you should talk to Yosse about it. Alas and alack, I’m not a heart-mender and you know that.
— Well, apparently I have to go, — I was able to pull myself together, but my body refused to obey: I got up from the couch, swaying like a drunk. — Best wishes, Executioner, and thanks for hearing me out.
— Same to you, — he smirked, seeing me off.
***
I wouldn't say my well-being is actually well.
I was having a headache, which hurt so hard, I felt the nausea as well. Each step was given by incredible difficulty. As if the body rebelled against the lifestyle I led for about three-four months already. Though, how can I speak of a body if I’m not real.
My home is very close to the Executioner’s place. Just cross the beloved field of white chrysanthemums… I would usually walk for hours in the field, admiring the turquoise sky, which always smelled of rain; weave chaplets of flowers and give them to the Executioner as gifts… But now, this place scared me. Dried darkened petals of withered chrysanthemums, the rumble of thunder and piercing wind forced me to panic. I quickened my step and drew a relieved sigh only when saw the familiar door with combination lock.
I lived in the most ordinary four-story apartment building, which looks exactly the same as many others in any city. But for me it is most uncommon. It is mine.
Echoes of the steps resonating in the stairwell, darkness… Damaged walls, covered with vulgarities and blood spots. I would have it all repaired, if I didn’t lack strength to do it. There’s no one living here besides me, and the awareness of my loneliness often makes me sad. Emptiness absorbs all the living, but as far as I have friends, I have nothing to fear.
The door to my apartment was opened wide, it seems to become a normal thing and doesn’t surprise me anymore.
A blond man met me in the hallway, there was a bit of a lunatic in him. He was dressed in a white kimono, stained with blue paint and… blood? It wasn’t matched by size, and every now and then strove to slip off from my guest’s fragile shoulders. His tranquil cherry-colored eyes looked rather scary in the shadows, but I was quite use to it.
Yosse doesn’t wish me harm, he’s always smiling to me. Even now I see that warm smile, though corcern is readable in his eyes.
It’s a pity that Yosse is mute. I haven’t heard a sound from him, for all the time we know each other.
— Yosse, well, how many times shall I repeat – don’t come inside when I’m not home, — I said with a mild reproach.
He looked away guiltily and shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed. However, the next moment he was already beside me. I saw a blue rose in his hands.
— What? Why did you bring it? — my heart sank. Blue roses reminded me of the Dark One...
Yosse just shook his head in response and pressed his forefinger to his lips. With a little thought, I accepted his gift. As soon as I touched the flower, its petals turned pale pink. Is there a new acquaintance waiting for me?
My thoughts were interrupted by Yosse’s intent and dissatisfied glare. We were still standing in the hallway. Oh, how rude of me!
— Forgive me, I’m not myself today. Absent-minded somehow. Come in to the living room, I’ll make us some tea. You like yours white, I know.
Yosse put his right hand to his chest and shook his head negatively. It means, he’s not for long. And his sudden visit has a definite goal.
— Well, fine then, — I agreed, but didn’t get a chance to make a question of what did he come for as Yosse suddenly grabbed my wrist and for some reason dragged me into the bedroom. He made me sit down on the windowsill there and hugged me, smiling.
He missed me. We haven’t seen each other for along time. I hugged him back and couldn’t help feeling happy there’s something warm and gentle still left in my world. Like our friendship.
— Tell me, how’s Aydjanni? — I asked when Yosse pulled away. — I haven’t seen him for a great while.
“He’s alright. He longs for you but I can’t let him visit you so far. And you don’t have any wishes, do you?”
Yosse always communicated with me mentally, I liked it a lot better than the usual dialog. In this case, the expression “being secretive” is best suited.
— You’re right, I don’t want anything except peace. However, if I would find Tajexis somehow…
“Aydjanni advised you to look somewhere nearby. He’s sure Tajexis is only two steps away from you.”
Tajexis… The one I need to regain myself back. Though, finding him seems to be impossible. He must be a guest from the imperfect world. But how can I trust people after what the Dark One has done tome?
“You shouldn’t have brought him here, and you yourself know that. I’ve warned you repeatedly what your rash actions are fraught with. Aydjanni have always disliked this man, and the Executioner despised him from the very beginning. You have to listen to what they call an inner voice.”
— I understand that now. Oh, Yosse, if only I could turn back time… Why did I think the Dark One was closer to me than you are? I’m so ashamed of myself in front of you, Aydjanni, the Executioner…
“Don’t grieve, Ian. Your disease mustn’t progress. Just try to believe. I have to go now. Aydjanni is afraid of staying alone and I don’t want to leave him for a long time.”
— Okay... Come more often, will you?
He nodded. Embraced me once more, parting, and left me sitting on the windowsill, confused and bewildered. The rose laid next to me. Its petals were as flossy as silk of Yosse’s kimono. I didn’t know what did this gift mean, what did it symbolize.
And, to be fair, I didn’t want to think about it right now.
Goodnight, world. I’m way too tired today.
***
— I’m sorry, but I don’t get it, — Igor returned the test results to psychiatrist. — Could you explain it if possible, please?
— I can’t say for sure, but… It’s either “temporal” or dissociative identity disorder. I’m more inclined to the first, since all of Yana’s stories are more like fiction. It doesn’t seem to be something terrible, but… — Nicolai pulled from a folder a sheet of paper, scribbled along and across, and handed it to Igor. — That’s what she wrote today, after the test.
“There, on the edge of my perfect world, I’ll be waiting for you.”
— What does it mean? — the young man frowned.
— Yana told me to give it to you, — the psychiatrist shrugged his shoulders. — To be precise, he asked me to pass it. So I’m interested only in him. It may be just an imaginary friend. Never the less, there is a chance that it may be an alter-ego.
— That’s how… — Igor was taken aback. Probably for the first time in his life. Two years ago Yana’s friends and relatives started to complain about her “bizarre behavior”. Previously sociable and cheerful girl suddenly became self-contained and sullen, sometimes easily irritable and even aggressive. Yana herself grew tired of it eventually and asked Igor to find a good shrink to consult her.
— Psychologist won’t help here anymore. I can feel some other changes, much more serious… — she told him honestly. — Please, find a therapist, before it’s too late. I’m going crazy…
Still, she never talked to him about her problems. And Igor tried not to put up the subject. He didn’t want his beloved to get more upset than she already was.
— Come back in a week, — Nicolai interrupted his thoughts. — I’ll try to get something out of him.
***
Swing. The rise and the fall, heaven and earth…
It’s just like a ghost of my childhood. I can’t recall how was it. Perhaps iridescent and carefree. Sky, don’t let me go anymore, don’t let me go! I don’t want to return to the cold reality of upcoming day!
Stars, so many of them. They are so bright, so different, like the sparks of fireworks. I smile, barely holding back the tearsof happiness. I have never felt so good before.
— Hello, honey.
That voice. My heart seems to have stopped. No, it can’t be, never… Why in this very dream?
— I love you.
— Liar!— I cried furiously. — Get the hell out of here!
— Why are you running from yourself and your feelings, Ian? You refuse to explain anything and banish me like a filthy scum, — a step towards me. The stars are going out, they’re hiding behind the thunderclouds, the air becomes heavy, the red mist descends upon town.
— You poison me and my world. Vanish. I do not want to see you.
The tall figure in a black cloak, my nightmare, my curse. My ex-friend, my former lover. Our ways parted forever more than a month ago. It seemed like everything was decided, like everything was said…
But…
It is impossible to peel away the parasite, without giving him at least a drop of your own blood. And sometimes it is already too late when you determine who was the bloodsucker. The least one, from who you expect such a betrayal and arrogance, is a loved one, but now I've realized the simple truth. Loved one should always be the first one in the list of suspects.That’s how the imperfect world is settled. The closest people cause the most severe pain, incomparable with anything else you ever felt.
The Dark One lacerated me and killed my bright half, Aslan. I haven’t yet reconciled with the fact she is no longer here. And I vowed revenge.
The Executioner repeated to me the banal truth about revenge – a dish that must be served cold. That’s why I waited patiently for anger and pain to quiet down.
— I’ll come back and restore thee, beloved! — the Dark One faded away in crimson mist. Only now I understand how much it hurts me to breathe in this poisoned air. Crimson fog brings pain. It’s just like the black snow which reminds me of the existence of Hell.
For how long will this Hell persecute me?
There, on the edge of perfect world, I’ll be waiting for you, Tajexis…
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17.11.2010 в 00:38-
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17.11.2010 в 00:40