Поцелуй разочaрования

Pearson Mary E, “The kiss of deception”, public translation into English from English More about this translation.

Another translations: into Russian. Translate into another language.

Participants

NastyaSS 6191 points
Michaboulali 783 points
Atkachova 488 points
And others...
Join Translated.by to translate! If you already have a Translated.by account, please sign in.
If you do not want to register an account, you can sign in with OpenID.
Pages: previous Ctrl next next untranslated

There is one true history and one true future.

Listen well, for the child sprung from misery,

Will be the one to bring hope.

From the weakest will come strength.

From the hunted will come freedom.

The old men shall dream dreams,

The young maids will see visions,

The beast of the forest will turn away,

They will see the child of misery coming,

And make clear the path.

From the seed of the thief,

The Dragon will rise,

The gluttonous one, feeding on the blood of babes,

Drinking the tears of mothers.

His bite will be cruel, but his tongue cunning,

His breath seductive, but his grip deadly,

The Dragon only knows hunger, never sated,

Only thirst, never quenched.

It was little wonder that the ruler of Venda wanted her mad babblings destroyed. They were bleak and made no sense, but something about them must have disturbed the Scholar. Or was I wasting my time? Maybe it was only the gold jeweled box that was of value to him? Could it be worth his neck and position to be a thief of the court? But I was nearly finished translating the grim song, so I continued.

From the loins of Morrighan,

From the far end of desolation,

From the scheming of rulers,

From the fears of a queen,

Hope will be born.

On the far side of death,

Past the great divide,

Where hunger eats souls,

Their tears will increase.

The Dragon will conspire,

Wearing his many faces,

Deceiving the oppressed, gathering the wicked,

Wielding might like a god, unstoppable,

Unforgiving in his judgment,

Unyielding in his rule,

A stealer of dreams,

A slayer of hope.

I read on, and with each word, my breaths grew shorter. When I got to the last verse, cold sweat sprang to my face. I raced through the loose papers again, searching for cataloging notes. The Scholar was meticulous about such things. I found them and reread them. These ancient books had come into his hands twelve years after I was born. It was impossible. It made no sense.

Until one comes who is mightier,

The one sprung from misery,

The one who was weak,

The one who was hunted,

The one marked with claw and vine,

Pages: previous Ctrl next next untranslated