Table of Contents | 25 April 2022
In this issue, art and truth, as well as life and death, are mutable and uncertain, whilst relationships endure even when the world is over.
By: Azrin Fauzi
Translated by: Ali Aiman Mazwin
DOT: Putting an end to a story. A dead story. Or a story which has yet to come alive? Which is not too far ahead of us, on the timeline with a zigzagging storyline. With lines of light conjuring up clouds, the sea, palm trees, sandy beaches and so on. A mesmerising morning landscape. A mirror copy of a painting. A painting of nature.
DOT: Yang telah menoktahkan sebuah kisah. Kisah yang telah mati. Atau kisah yang belum dihidupkan lagi? Yang tidaklah jauh di depan, di atas susurmasa yang disimpang-siurkan jalan ceritanya. Dengan garis-garis cahaya yang menjelmakan awan-gemawan, laut, pokok kelapa, pasiran pantai dan sebagainya. Landskap pagi yang mempesona. Salin tak tumpah seperti sebuah lukisan. Lukisan alam.
The world is over. Well, not exactly. Your world is over, that, your world is over. Only you and he remain. So very small, so strong.
Nevertheless, that hand on the table which no one could see helped me serve them at lengthy meals, the servants prattled away of course, a heap of rumours piled up in the corners, and the charwomen seized the chance to steal the candle remains
Ωστόσο, εκείνο το χέρι πάνω στο τραπέζι που κανείς δεν το ’βλεπε, με βοηθούσε να τους υπηρετώ στα μακριά γεύματα, οι υπηρέτες, βέβαια, φλυαρούσαν, ένα σωρό διαδόσεις σωριάζονταν στις γωνιές, κ’ οι παραδουλεύτρες εύρισκαν ευκαιρία κι έκλεβαν τ’ απομεινάρια των κεριών,
El mundo se acabó. Bueno, no exactamente. Tu mundo se acabó, eso, tu mundo se acabó. Sólo quedan tú y él. Tan chiquito, tan fuerte.
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