Posted originally on AO3. Tags: Family, Slice of Life, Adopted Child, Angst, Humor, Motherly love, Post-TRY, drabbles
Notes: ooh, a translation at last? After so many years, I felt it was due ^^; I decided to translate some of my shorter works, since the Italian fandoms aren't much populated and I want to share with the world; it will take time, and I still don't know how many stories will be completed, but be assured that I'm doing my best (and Universe is almost done) =D
Keep in mind that I couldn't get a beta-reader, so please forgive - and point out - any mistakes you should find.
Enjoy =3
Title taken from Slayers Try Treasury II (Vargarv's reincarnation's theme).
For LordRandallsLady, who wrote that magnificent collection called Tales of Kenji.
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Cradle and song, joy and regret
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She sang and rocked, sang and rocked; sweet rolling scented of water and earth. A tiredness dissolved by the presence of friends, a home and a future warm like tea.
Sometimes, she fell asleep on the still wet potter's wheel.
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I held a jewel in my fingers -
and went to sleep -
the day was warm, and winds were prosy -
I said "'Twill keep"
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Var mumbled in the cradle; Filia then cleaned her hands and caressed his brow, recognizing the signs of a masterpiece.
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Lyrics: Emily Dickinson.
Words: 83. I know... not a pure drabble ;p
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With a finger she sowed a tear
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And a disappointment, and another one still...
People did not understand. They lived in suspicion, convinced they pursued some kind of success by listening to pride. Fear sat at their side. And Filia felt sorrow her companion when she took Var home, the child either disappointed, shocked or wounded.
Why was it so difficult not to hurt others? Why did they despise a dream? Everyone lived angrily.
But she... she believed in that dream. If she could pay with misery for that future sweetness, then she would not give up. For her, the sky was blue, always, even under the blackest of clouds.
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The weight of the past
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Sometimes she felt him, near and dark like the dusk. She went out on the balcony with the little one in her arms, silent, trying to read the wind.
Maybe it was useless. Besides, she would never learn the truth from him.
Grateful that his visits were sporadic, she was afraid of the fortuitousness with which he appeared nonetheless. She did not flatter herself thinking it was for her, either for good or bad. Every night, she slept with an ear to the cradle, forcing her hands not to take the baby into her bed.
Luna's shield would protect him (she tried to believe).
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Summer song
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By now, evening had descended on Plum's Hillock and a mother's voice sang clear and sweet from the house. Leafy branches, laden with fruits, swayed high on the sunflowers' heads, which a fox had wanted to plant under the infant's window – golden decoration to a minuscule garden.
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O evening,
you gather the things
that went lost under the sun...
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The fox put the hoe against the wall and sat under the windowsill, half a smile on his lips. And the mother sang:
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O evening,
you gather the things
that went lost under the sun...
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Notes: Filia's song^ comes from Madicken at June Hill by Astrid Lindgren and is a translation from the Italian version, so I apologise if it doesn't match with the original English translation (couldn't get my hands on one).
...Those spaces. I cannot - for the life of me - figure out how to leave a space or two between paragraphs without putting a period in the middle =/ meh.
Stay tuned for the last installments ;D