![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oneill posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sutepriEven rougher than usual because I don't have time to proofread right now, but at least I'm only a day late? Ahaha. orz
[Content Notes]
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The End of the Days of Innocence | Part 2/3
The funeral service proceeded without incident.
"Pretty strange funeral, isn't it?"
A murmur drifted in on the wind.
Before the eyes of the attendees, flames engulfed a high wooden platform. That was all. It was far too austere to be called a ceremony, and it had no trace of religion in it. There was no clergyman to offer his prayers or recite a memorial address, only a column of blazing flames stretching up as though to convey their burden to the heavens, and scattering their delicate red light like the incandescence of fireflies.
Searing and crimson. Scorching all that they touched, swirling up in the wind, vehemently proclaiming their existence . . . but it is the fate of all flames to die out eventually. Isn't that kind of overly sentimental? Conflating something like that with the transience of human life . . . Mulling over such thoughts, Shannon watched in silence as his father's body burned away.
This was what the deceased had wanted, back when he had still been alive.
Funerals were generally carried out in accordance with the traditions of the Church of Mauser--the state religion of the Kingdom of Leinwand--but the deceased had not wished for that. No one knew the reason. There was no need to know. For Shannon and his sisters, who had been left behind, this was their final act of filial piety.
"Pacifica."
"Nn . . . What?"
Pacifica, uncomfortable in her mourning clothes, looked over her shoulder at Shannon, who had called out to her without looking away from the flames.
". . . it's okay to cry, you know."
"Didn't Dad always used to say he hated gloomy stuff like that? I'm fine."
. . . because I've cried enough already.
Pacifica stopped those last words in her throat. Shannon and Raquel were probably aware of it without her needing to say anything.
"But, I dunno . . ." Pacifica murmured. "It feels kind of weird."
One would certainly expect the red of the flames to be ferocious, but instead they seemed to waver gently. They enveloped the corpse, changing it to ash, changing it to smoke, and scattering it into the atmosphere and over the earth. Joy, sorrow, anger--everything we accumulate in life is ultimately lost when we return to the universe.
And with that, the funeral ended.
It seemed that this was the custom in the deceased's native land, and there could be no funerary service more modest than this.
And yet . . . if the number of attendees can be used as a measure of how much the deceased was loved in life, than surely people who are as widely loved as the siblings' father, Yuuma Casull, are rare. It was not as though a special effort had been made to send out funeral announcements, but still a large crowd of people gathered in the town square. People from the neighborhood, familiar adventurers who just happened to be in the area, and traveling merchants could all be seen. Even Shannon and his sisters found the number of people a little surprising.
But most surprising of all . . .
"Isn't that His Lordship, over there?"
Hearing these words from one of the attendees, Shannon and his sisters turned.
A man hovered at the edge of the town square, accompanied by a black-clad woman who seemed to be his attendant.
He was middle-aged, a man who would most likely be reaching his fifties soon.
His expression was rather severe, and while one could easily imagine how he would look when angered, it was somewhat difficult to imagine how he would look if he were to smile . . . That sort of atmosphere surrounded him. Perhaps there are some who would call that "dignity." If they deliberately wrap themselves in things like that, then maybe this aristocracy business comes with its fair share of hardships . . . Shannon suddenly found himself thinking such irreverent thoughts. Shannon had inherited this unintentionally skewed view of authority from his father.
The man had clothed his medium-built frame in the same, solid black mourning clothes as his attendant, but it was immediately obvious that he was a man of high social standing. Pomp and refinement are not such things as can be acquired in a day, and once a man has steeped himself in them, they cannot be eliminated by a mere change of clothes.
Shannon and his sisters had seen his face several times before, during the town's official functions. He was Count Luigis Franchi1, feudal lord of Manurhin.
Shannon and Raquel exchanged glances.
Ill-suited to his outward appearance (and setting aside for the moment whether it is appropriate to say such a thing or not), Count Franchi was a benevolent ruler who always kept the people of his fiefdom in mind, but as might be expected, he did not walk on his own two feet to attend each and every commoner's funeral. At the very least, Shannon and his sisters had never heard of such a thing.
The middle-aged nobleman walked slowly up to stand beside the bewildered Casull siblings, and Pacifica as well. His attendant followed without a sound, remaining close to his side.
". . ."
Shannon's eyes narrowed.
When nobles go on outings, they generally have an escort of several burly men to walk with them . . . but the woman attending the count, her slight frame gave her the appearance of delicacy and privilege. One could see at a glance that it was extremely unlikely that she could be fit to serve as anything like a bodyguard.
Her age was not quite clear, but she was most likely in her mid-twenties. Her strongly eccentric flaxen hair was chopped short like a boy's. She was a beautiful woman with an aura of intellectualism, but her expression seemed somehow frozen in rigidity and iciness . . . She had the air of someone who wears a mask, who has learned the art of hiding her true feelings below the surface.
Of course, that was not all there was to this woman.
Shannon noticed that, as she walked, her shoulders hardly moved at all. She held her upper body with perfect poise, just as though she were gliding in on something, and her gait was reminiscent of a martial artist. If nothing else, there could be no mistaking that this woman had knowledge of some school of combat training2.
"You are the family of Yuuma Casull-shi3, are you not?" the woman asked, smiling politely. It was not quite an unpleasant smile, but neither did it stir any feelings of warmth. Perhaps this was because it did not reach her grey eyes. "As I am certain you are already aware, this is the feudal lord of Manurhin, Count Luigis Franchi."
". . . ah, that's quite all right. After all, we're traveling incognito for today. There's no need for such formalities."
With a debonair wave of his hand and a vague smile, Count Franchi said this to Shannon and his sisters, who had started to drop to one knee in deference to their lord.
When he stood still and silent, he came across as carelessly severe, but smiling as he was now, a certain warmth and affability came into his expression. Surely this side of him could only be the affection between a wise ruler and his subjects.
"Your father and I were rather close, you see. I'm here for that reason, and that reason alone. Right now, rather than your lord, I'd like you to think of me as just another old man."
"Thank you. I'm sure our father would have been happy as well."
While speaking these ceremonious words of gratitude, Shannon was mentally tipping his head to one side. Glancing at Pacifica, Shannon found that she was looking back at him. This was the first they'd heard of their father--a mere arms dealer--knowing the feudal lord personally.
Raquel, on the other hand, had the same, slightly intoxicated expression that she always wore . . . Well, in her case, even if she were to be told, "Actually, the moon is made of cheese," she had the sort of personality that allowed her to train her reaction into a simple, "Oh, is that so?" She could be told more or less anything, and still she would not show any particular surprise.
"So . . . what will you do from here?" the count asked in a conversational tone.
"For the time being, the three of us have some things to discuss. I was thinking of following in my father's footsteps and taking over the shop, though."
"I see . . . Yes, I see." Count Franchi gave a slight nod, seeming to be wrapped up in other thoughts . . . Then he suddenly raised his face and looked around at the siblings. "He didn't happen to leave some sort of will, did he?"
"I'm sorry? Our father died in an accident . . ."
It was not that Shannon and his sisters had witnessed their father's death, but that was definitely what they had heard from the city guard.
"Ah, yes. But I suppose I mean that he was a man who was extremely good at reading his surroundings. Having already lost his wife, I thought perhaps he would have thought to leave a few words for his children, should he by any chance happen to pass away as well. At any rate, I suppose it's not really any concern of mine, but if you happen to find a message for me in such a will, I do hope you'll let me know . . ."
Shannon and his sisters saw the count tip his head to one side, and it seemed that he was glossing over something. His attendant suddenly stepped in front of him, as though she meant forcibly to stop the words themselves with her body.
"Your Lordship . . . it is time. Please return to your governmental duties."
"Is it that time already? Yes, ah. Well then, I must take my leave."
So saying, Count Franchi turned his back on the dumbfounded siblings, and he and his attendant quickly departed that place.
Just as he was about to call after the count . . . Shannon stopped himself. He was dealing with the feudal lord. He had no right to question the words and actions of such a man, no matter how baffling, and neither was he in any position to do so.
Even so . . .
". . . that was kind of weird."
Pacifica's murmur spoke for all of them.
People slip in amongst people.
You hide a tree in a forest. You hide a person in a crowd. It's a simplistic and trite way of thinking, but that's exactly why it smacks of realism. Erratic ways of thinking disappear before they have the chance to become trite.
And so . . .
"My word . . . Isn't that His Lordship?"
One of the funeral's attendees--Wesson4, the carpenter--glanced over his shoulder at this abrupt inquiry.
A large (more in width than anything else) middle-aged man was gazing after the feudal lord with narrow black eyes that seemed capable of cutting into a person.
His lusterless red hair stretched long and was slicked back with pomade. Perhaps he meant to put himself out as a dandy, but his dirty, dark green clothes; the movement of his tongue, which would occasionally dart out to wet his lips; his greasy cheeks; and of course, his hairstyle--they all gave a strong impression of filthiness.
Even though it was the middle of the winter season, at a glance, this man appeared to be sweltering.
His was an unfamiliar face, but Manurhin served as a sort of relay base for adventurers, so strangers weren't uncommon. They got their share of shady characters, so Wesson answered without paying much attention.
"Looks that way. The feudal lord himself coming to see old man Casull off . . . It's really something."
"This Casull-san who's passed away, did he really hold such high social status?"
"Nah, I think he was just an arms dealer, you know? He was dearly loved by adventurers. Well, I've got no idea what he used to do or where he used to live before he came here, and he definitely wasn't the kind of person who liked talking about himself, but you know." Wesson tipped his head to one side and searched his memory. "He was kind of an eccentric, but if you wanna talk about oddballs, our feudal lord's got some weird things about him too. Maybe there was some kind of connection there, who knows?"
"I see. I see."
The fat man gave several small nods. Rather than a friendly chat, he acted as though he were confirming the details of an investigation.
"Were you and Casull-san very . . . ?"
"Oh, no. We had some previous business dealings together, that's all. It's just something that's been weighing on my mind."
After thanking Wesson, the man left. He detached himself from the cluster of attendees and walked a little way off, and a thin smile began to rise on his face after a bit.
"Now I see . . . Perhaps I ought to try going after that feudal lord as well."
People slip in amongst people.
That is why . . . those who intend to deceive others, of course they hide themselves within a crowd of people. Those who do not want their pasts to be known, or who perhaps live in a present that should not be known . . . those people who carry such burdens on their backs.
"Taking care of that little lady shouldn't pose any further difficulties, but we've already lost seven people . . . Unless I find a tastier story, it won't have been worth it."
For example, those like the Eliminators.
Surprisingly, the masters of that dark, cold world live right beside the ordinary and the everyday, walking around with oblivious expressions on their faces. Most people do not know that. Even if they do know, they are incapable of taking it to heart.
"Now, then. What course of action will Convict take?"
Murmuring this, the man gave his corpulent, cloak-wrapped body a shake, and took his leave of the funeral service.
---
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) Luigi Franchi is an Italian manufacturer of firearms, most notably shotguns. Back
2) The text has taijutsu (体術), or "body techniques." A blanket term that refers to all Japanese martial arts techniques focusing on body movements. Back
3) 氏, which is an honorific that is usually used only in formal writing. A neutral suffix that doesn't require the speaker to have any knowledge of the other person's status. Back
4) Smith & Wesson is the largest manufacturer of handguns in the United States. Back
Also note that, starting here, I'm attaching pop-ups to words whose readings differ from their written forms. For example, sensei writes 職業的殺人者 (shokugyouteki satsujinsha), which means "professional killers," but has "エリミネータ" (ERIMINEETA) as its furigana. So as you read, keep an eye out for marked-up words. If you hover your mouse over them, a pop-up will appear with the original written form and its most literal translation.
[Content Notes]
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The End of the Days of Innocence | Part 2/3
The funeral service proceeded without incident.
"Pretty strange funeral, isn't it?"
A murmur drifted in on the wind.
Before the eyes of the attendees, flames engulfed a high wooden platform. That was all. It was far too austere to be called a ceremony, and it had no trace of religion in it. There was no clergyman to offer his prayers or recite a memorial address, only a column of blazing flames stretching up as though to convey their burden to the heavens, and scattering their delicate red light like the incandescence of fireflies.
Searing and crimson. Scorching all that they touched, swirling up in the wind, vehemently proclaiming their existence . . . but it is the fate of all flames to die out eventually. Isn't that kind of overly sentimental? Conflating something like that with the transience of human life . . . Mulling over such thoughts, Shannon watched in silence as his father's body burned away.
This was what the deceased had wanted, back when he had still been alive.
Funerals were generally carried out in accordance with the traditions of the Church of Mauser--the state religion of the Kingdom of Leinwand--but the deceased had not wished for that. No one knew the reason. There was no need to know. For Shannon and his sisters, who had been left behind, this was their final act of filial piety.
"Pacifica."
"Nn . . . What?"
Pacifica, uncomfortable in her mourning clothes, looked over her shoulder at Shannon, who had called out to her without looking away from the flames.
". . . it's okay to cry, you know."
"Didn't Dad always used to say he hated gloomy stuff like that? I'm fine."
. . . because I've cried enough already.
Pacifica stopped those last words in her throat. Shannon and Raquel were probably aware of it without her needing to say anything.
"But, I dunno . . ." Pacifica murmured. "It feels kind of weird."
One would certainly expect the red of the flames to be ferocious, but instead they seemed to waver gently. They enveloped the corpse, changing it to ash, changing it to smoke, and scattering it into the atmosphere and over the earth. Joy, sorrow, anger--everything we accumulate in life is ultimately lost when we return to the universe.
And with that, the funeral ended.
It seemed that this was the custom in the deceased's native land, and there could be no funerary service more modest than this.
And yet . . . if the number of attendees can be used as a measure of how much the deceased was loved in life, than surely people who are as widely loved as the siblings' father, Yuuma Casull, are rare. It was not as though a special effort had been made to send out funeral announcements, but still a large crowd of people gathered in the town square. People from the neighborhood, familiar adventurers who just happened to be in the area, and traveling merchants could all be seen. Even Shannon and his sisters found the number of people a little surprising.
But most surprising of all . . .
"Isn't that His Lordship, over there?"
Hearing these words from one of the attendees, Shannon and his sisters turned.
A man hovered at the edge of the town square, accompanied by a black-clad woman who seemed to be his attendant.
He was middle-aged, a man who would most likely be reaching his fifties soon.
His expression was rather severe, and while one could easily imagine how he would look when angered, it was somewhat difficult to imagine how he would look if he were to smile . . . That sort of atmosphere surrounded him. Perhaps there are some who would call that "dignity." If they deliberately wrap themselves in things like that, then maybe this aristocracy business comes with its fair share of hardships . . . Shannon suddenly found himself thinking such irreverent thoughts. Shannon had inherited this unintentionally skewed view of authority from his father.
The man had clothed his medium-built frame in the same, solid black mourning clothes as his attendant, but it was immediately obvious that he was a man of high social standing. Pomp and refinement are not such things as can be acquired in a day, and once a man has steeped himself in them, they cannot be eliminated by a mere change of clothes.
Shannon and his sisters had seen his face several times before, during the town's official functions. He was Count Luigis Franchi1, feudal lord of Manurhin.
Shannon and Raquel exchanged glances.
Ill-suited to his outward appearance (and setting aside for the moment whether it is appropriate to say such a thing or not), Count Franchi was a benevolent ruler who always kept the people of his fiefdom in mind, but as might be expected, he did not walk on his own two feet to attend each and every commoner's funeral. At the very least, Shannon and his sisters had never heard of such a thing.
The middle-aged nobleman walked slowly up to stand beside the bewildered Casull siblings, and Pacifica as well. His attendant followed without a sound, remaining close to his side.
". . ."
Shannon's eyes narrowed.
When nobles go on outings, they generally have an escort of several burly men to walk with them . . . but the woman attending the count, her slight frame gave her the appearance of delicacy and privilege. One could see at a glance that it was extremely unlikely that she could be fit to serve as anything like a bodyguard.
Her age was not quite clear, but she was most likely in her mid-twenties. Her strongly eccentric flaxen hair was chopped short like a boy's. She was a beautiful woman with an aura of intellectualism, but her expression seemed somehow frozen in rigidity and iciness . . . She had the air of someone who wears a mask, who has learned the art of hiding her true feelings below the surface.
Of course, that was not all there was to this woman.
Shannon noticed that, as she walked, her shoulders hardly moved at all. She held her upper body with perfect poise, just as though she were gliding in on something, and her gait was reminiscent of a martial artist. If nothing else, there could be no mistaking that this woman had knowledge of some school of combat training2.
"You are the family of Yuuma Casull-shi3, are you not?" the woman asked, smiling politely. It was not quite an unpleasant smile, but neither did it stir any feelings of warmth. Perhaps this was because it did not reach her grey eyes. "As I am certain you are already aware, this is the feudal lord of Manurhin, Count Luigis Franchi."
". . . ah, that's quite all right. After all, we're traveling incognito for today. There's no need for such formalities."
With a debonair wave of his hand and a vague smile, Count Franchi said this to Shannon and his sisters, who had started to drop to one knee in deference to their lord.
When he stood still and silent, he came across as carelessly severe, but smiling as he was now, a certain warmth and affability came into his expression. Surely this side of him could only be the affection between a wise ruler and his subjects.
"Your father and I were rather close, you see. I'm here for that reason, and that reason alone. Right now, rather than your lord, I'd like you to think of me as just another old man."
"Thank you. I'm sure our father would have been happy as well."
While speaking these ceremonious words of gratitude, Shannon was mentally tipping his head to one side. Glancing at Pacifica, Shannon found that she was looking back at him. This was the first they'd heard of their father--a mere arms dealer--knowing the feudal lord personally.
Raquel, on the other hand, had the same, slightly intoxicated expression that she always wore . . . Well, in her case, even if she were to be told, "Actually, the moon is made of cheese," she had the sort of personality that allowed her to train her reaction into a simple, "Oh, is that so?" She could be told more or less anything, and still she would not show any particular surprise.
"So . . . what will you do from here?" the count asked in a conversational tone.
"For the time being, the three of us have some things to discuss. I was thinking of following in my father's footsteps and taking over the shop, though."
"I see . . . Yes, I see." Count Franchi gave a slight nod, seeming to be wrapped up in other thoughts . . . Then he suddenly raised his face and looked around at the siblings. "He didn't happen to leave some sort of will, did he?"
"I'm sorry? Our father died in an accident . . ."
It was not that Shannon and his sisters had witnessed their father's death, but that was definitely what they had heard from the city guard.
"Ah, yes. But I suppose I mean that he was a man who was extremely good at reading his surroundings. Having already lost his wife, I thought perhaps he would have thought to leave a few words for his children, should he by any chance happen to pass away as well. At any rate, I suppose it's not really any concern of mine, but if you happen to find a message for me in such a will, I do hope you'll let me know . . ."
Shannon and his sisters saw the count tip his head to one side, and it seemed that he was glossing over something. His attendant suddenly stepped in front of him, as though she meant forcibly to stop the words themselves with her body.
"Your Lordship . . . it is time. Please return to your governmental duties."
"Is it that time already? Yes, ah. Well then, I must take my leave."
So saying, Count Franchi turned his back on the dumbfounded siblings, and he and his attendant quickly departed that place.
Just as he was about to call after the count . . . Shannon stopped himself. He was dealing with the feudal lord. He had no right to question the words and actions of such a man, no matter how baffling, and neither was he in any position to do so.
Even so . . .
". . . that was kind of weird."
Pacifica's murmur spoke for all of them.
People slip in amongst people.
You hide a tree in a forest. You hide a person in a crowd. It's a simplistic and trite way of thinking, but that's exactly why it smacks of realism. Erratic ways of thinking disappear before they have the chance to become trite.
And so . . .
"My word . . . Isn't that His Lordship?"
One of the funeral's attendees--Wesson4, the carpenter--glanced over his shoulder at this abrupt inquiry.
A large (more in width than anything else) middle-aged man was gazing after the feudal lord with narrow black eyes that seemed capable of cutting into a person.
His lusterless red hair stretched long and was slicked back with pomade. Perhaps he meant to put himself out as a dandy, but his dirty, dark green clothes; the movement of his tongue, which would occasionally dart out to wet his lips; his greasy cheeks; and of course, his hairstyle--they all gave a strong impression of filthiness.
Even though it was the middle of the winter season, at a glance, this man appeared to be sweltering.
His was an unfamiliar face, but Manurhin served as a sort of relay base for adventurers, so strangers weren't uncommon. They got their share of shady characters, so Wesson answered without paying much attention.
"Looks that way. The feudal lord himself coming to see old man Casull off . . . It's really something."
"This Casull-san who's passed away, did he really hold such high social status?"
"Nah, I think he was just an arms dealer, you know? He was dearly loved by adventurers. Well, I've got no idea what he used to do or where he used to live before he came here, and he definitely wasn't the kind of person who liked talking about himself, but you know." Wesson tipped his head to one side and searched his memory. "He was kind of an eccentric, but if you wanna talk about oddballs, our feudal lord's got some weird things about him too. Maybe there was some kind of connection there, who knows?"
"I see. I see."
The fat man gave several small nods. Rather than a friendly chat, he acted as though he were confirming the details of an investigation.
"Were you and Casull-san very . . . ?"
"Oh, no. We had some previous business dealings together, that's all. It's just something that's been weighing on my mind."
After thanking Wesson, the man left. He detached himself from the cluster of attendees and walked a little way off, and a thin smile began to rise on his face after a bit.
"Now I see . . . Perhaps I ought to try going after that feudal lord as well."
People slip in amongst people.
That is why . . . those who intend to deceive others, of course they hide themselves within a crowd of people. Those who do not want their pasts to be known, or who perhaps live in a present that should not be known . . . those people who carry such burdens on their backs.
"Taking care of that little lady shouldn't pose any further difficulties, but we've already lost seven people . . . Unless I find a tastier story, it won't have been worth it."
For example, those like the Eliminators.
Surprisingly, the masters of that dark, cold world live right beside the ordinary and the everyday, walking around with oblivious expressions on their faces. Most people do not know that. Even if they do know, they are incapable of taking it to heart.
"Now, then. What course of action will Convict take?"
Murmuring this, the man gave his corpulent, cloak-wrapped body a shake, and took his leave of the funeral service.
---
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) Luigi Franchi is an Italian manufacturer of firearms, most notably shotguns. Back
2) The text has taijutsu (体術), or "body techniques." A blanket term that refers to all Japanese martial arts techniques focusing on body movements. Back
3) 氏, which is an honorific that is usually used only in formal writing. A neutral suffix that doesn't require the speaker to have any knowledge of the other person's status. Back
4) Smith & Wesson is the largest manufacturer of handguns in the United States. Back
Also note that, starting here, I'm attaching pop-ups to words whose readings differ from their written forms. For example, sensei writes 職業的殺人者 (shokugyouteki satsujinsha), which means "professional killers," but has "エリミネータ" (ERIMINEETA) as its furigana. So as you read, keep an eye out for marked-up words. If you hover your mouse over them, a pop-up will appear with the original written form and its most literal translation.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-07-11 11:10 am (UTC)blazing flames stretching up as though to convey their burden to the heavens, and scattering a delicate red light like the incandescence of fireflies.
Such an evocatively-described scene - incandescence seems especially apt for the image, as opposed to luminescence which is what one tends to associate with fireflies (what was the original word, if I may ask?)
Count Franchi sounds interesting...pity he wasn't (? or didn't leave an impression) in the anime.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-12 12:37 am (UTC)ただ、燃え盛る炎が天に届けと言わんばかりに伸び上がり、蛍火のように微細な赤い光芒を散らす
only blazing flames stretch up as if to say "reach/arrive at/be delivered to the heavens," and scatter the delicate red beam of light like the light of fireflies
I'm pretty sure the last part is meant to evoke the image of embers, jumping off the column of flame and looking like fireflies as they do so. As you can see, I compressed the "as if to say . . ." bit and left out "beam/column" entirely. I tried to avoid doing so, but they made an already unwieldy sentence even more so (in English, anyway).
Oh, hell. And it should probably be "their delicate red light," not "a delicate red light." *fixes that*
As far as the incandescence/luminescence thing goes, to me, 蛍火 just seems more focused on the fire-like quality of the light (in the same way as 狐火 or 鬼火), as opposed to the more literal "光" that's used for luminescence--冷光 (luminescence/cold light), 発光 (luminescence/radiation), and 夜光 (nocturnal luminescence). It may just be me reading too much into things, but there you are.
. . . of course the most important factor in obsessing over that bit of translation was my not wanting to use "light" two times in the same clause. XD;
no subject
Date: 2008-07-12 11:54 am (UTC)incandescence/luminescence thing
You're right in the context of the line - not only glowing/shining, but also burning.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-12 12:38 am (UTC)