Pieces - A First try

I hope you don't mind, Malkuthe, that I'm posting here too. It's just a try, I don't know for how long I'll post this.

These are translations of the Portuguese originals I already have, and I'll post them, well, in pieces. I'd appreciate criticism, and corrections if necessary. But keep in mind that I'm not too used to English literary incursions. ^_^

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Exhausted feet touched the soil. Was that repose real? Maybe finally he could have a chance to rest, to abandon himself, to close the eyes.

Eyes. Amazed eyes shining back. Quick gests. Lips moving too quickly, forming too much words. At the same time. His knees gave up to his weight and his body was falling to the ground, but strong hands, anonymous, held him. And it's warmth was enough to make his soul surrender itself to oblivion

***

"Who is he? He came from the sky. Is one of the winged."
"He's the one who's called 'Kryon' ('Cold')"
"It's 'Kyrion' ('Lord')"
"The Kyrion? The angel's whisper?"
"It's what they say."
"Wasn't he the author of the all-dreams song?"
"Word has it."
"He looks pretty ordinary..."
"Do you think so? I thought it looked surreal. Even for this place's standards."
"Something with the big wings, the long tail, isn't it? And that long hair."
"Yes. And for being so wounded."
"But wasn't he invincible?"
"Don't they say that he was beautiful, like a God's piece?"
"And that he's capable to bring to reality what exists only in the illusions?"
"Yes. They say all this is true."
But none of these truths was told by the Kyrion himself.

***

He was unsure about how he got there, but was feeling well. It felt like home. In front of him, a huge building completely white, at the top of a hill, surrounded by many smaller ones, like little houses with balconies, white as well. The big one looked like a palace, or castle. Maybe a temple. Peaceful and vaguely familiar.

There was a soft and constant breeze, bringing a slightly tense voice. It looked like a wish... Shouldn't be important.
His bare feet walked the sinuous avenue made of stones taking to the hill, through all the desert place. It was surprisingly clean, like everyone just left, disappearing in the air. Or maybe others would just arrive. He didn't know. But his tail was undulating gently through all its lenght, transpiring his satisfaction.

And there was that distant voice, a little sad. Why that? They couldn't leave him in peace! Just now that he seemed to return, after so long...

Just a few more steps and he reached the door of the big building, huge and heavy, made of beautiful wood. At both sides, smaller doors. Maybe use the principal one would not be appropriate, the smaller ones were right to him. And they were locked.

"Come back, Lord. There are things you must accomplish here". The wind formed the words.

He sighed. "I'll go."

Unfolded the wings, he was carried by the wind. That place would wait for him, and would still keep his path. Whatever that was. Now he was returning to reality, leaving, once more, the plane of dreams.

***

Hands lifted his body, placing it in a soft surface. They were agile, benevolent. Some had goodwill and flesh; others had experience and bones. No talon cut him, but many times he felt pain. Old and new. But those hands didn't want to do him harm, they were worried, like taking care of a precious thing, and were afraid of what it's future would bring.

Even with that pain, and the pain of such hands, there was a soft comfort in their care. A new sleep came, empty of dreams, lulled their touch.

"Salutations, mister Kyrion. Please, don't move youself, or you can suffer from a wound."
"You don't need to call me this." the voice was hoarse, hacking slightly for a bitter pain and exhaustion.
"But it's the right way to call you, Mister." And they didn't know his real name. He was too tired to complain.
"It's been a long time..."
"Indeed, Kyrion. You honor us with your visit." The healer's voice failed for a moment. "If I have permission, could I know how you got so hurt, Mister?"
"I can't remember. But it has been a long trip." It was an honest answer. He noticed his wings were gone.
"I see. Maybe you can remember clearer in the proper time, after your rest. Most of the wounds were superficial, with no need for stitching. You'll be fine in no time, Kyrion. If you need anything, just call me." And then he exited. He seemed honest and solicitous.

Being alone once more made him think. Think about what he was supposed to do there and he couldn't recall. The name, distant memories, of what he should be or what he was just before. Mendeva. His species. Or maybe his condition. His hystory was slipping through his fingers, belonging to a remote past. But this story really began in the remote past.

What was he doing in the present?

***

Loose clothes, like robes of soft rustle and comfy aspect, covering the body in it's recovering. Fingers working through the yellow pages, occasionaly stopping; agile eyes roaming the many words and a sharp mind stocking them, analyzing, organizing everything. Truly a ballet. Another pair of hands, younger and plump, etertaining themselves braiding the other's hair, while their owner's lips moved little, silently guarding the other's work. From time to time, they relaxed in their work, letting escape a giggle.
The cover of the book was turned, and the sigh heard could be both from the book and it's reader.

"What are you searching for, Kyrion? Maybe I could help you." The sweet voice enunciated, very young and very girly.
"Many things. A bit about the origins of your people. The legends about mine."
"They are really long stories... beautiful stories."

The other moved himself in the chair, but kept his head so that the little one could keep dancing her fingers in his hair, like she seemed to like so much. "Do you really believe the mendevas came from the sky, Aciru?"
"Where more could they be from, Kyrion? Even if not all of them are winged, they are not from this world." The little one bit her lip, afraid for her low skill in the control of her tongue, and for her habit of talking too much. "I mean you... forgive me, Kyrion. I keep forgetting that I'm in the presence of a mendeva, and even have a chance to touch!"

The Kyrion smiled, and even being in his back, he could feel the little girl relaxed a little with his tranquility. "Don't worry about this. We're only another people. And even if we came from the 'sky', it's not the Heaven, the Paradise. The Shambhalla you talk about. It's just another land. And we come here because our worlds touch each other."

Hearing about this, the little Aciru kept her silence. Those words conlifcted against what she was told during her education and her beliefs from since she was a small child. There should be a moment to conciliate both visions...

No, I'm not going to translate the rest of this story.... it's the first sketch of my book. The original is now much, way much longer.

This is the translation of a poem. Of course, in English, it has lost the right metric...


I am the son of your hands, the son from your lips,
From your reverie, from your old books,
From your futile dreams, and your wise advices,
My soul dwells within you, in a illuminated place.

You gave me wings to climb the space,
Give me the denied and prohibited things, so I can end them.
With light you filled my chest, with faith you fed my arms.
My eyes uncover the world created inside you.

Let me be the avatar of dream in your land!
Let me be the shelter, that bewilders the war!
Let me be the finished work, and the amiss heart!
The silence of your tears of the wrath of your cry!

The claws you gave me will disarm the dark.
I am the scary beast whose voice can overjoy.
And that way I am gifted, so nobody can see
How I only exist within you, free and captive.

This is awesome! I have no idea why I haven't posted a comment here yet. >.<

Thank you, Malkuthe ^_^ I'm glad you like these little things I share. As I really like the multiverse you have created. Sometimes I'll post here some tranlations, of my shots in Literature.

I am interested too in your own creations. . They're really good! .

In portuguese, this is a right sonnet...

Sphinx

A pair of golden eyes look right into me
The deep of my soul they read, and then laugh
With bright stone fangs.
In the weight of such sight, I falter.

Through a long time we stay like this,
The monster's tail waving.
In hate, we know each other very well;
The life is bare, in the dark sky, so empty...

The eternity is stuck in a moment;
When the beast throw open it's mouth,
Seeming bigger and more fearful.

And it says: "I will free you from the misery.
Because you missed my riddle.
And now, you know what happens".


And this one

Story


I was the sparkle, light of a star;
And the black veil of firmament,
Where a thousand years are nothing but a moment.
I loved the Moon, and feared I could lose it.

Here on Earth I was a grain of sand,
And the gentle breeze that cherish.
I was rain, thunder and muddy soil;
And a single dewdrop in a spiderweb.

I was enveloped by darkness as a seed;
Sprouted, and I was the vernal being.
Picked, I was the kindest flower,
And with fruits I was happily laden.

I was a creature walking among the beasts,
Was hunger, tail, fangs, hair and claws;
I took off so high, with no ties.
A son of the wild, hidden in the ivy.

Now, offspring of Eve and Adam,
Here I write in verse all my story.
Eons, ages of life and memory
Through where my heart have been.