SAGA DE MIGUEL BOSÉ 9: DIN KÄRE KANALJE

 Esta saga es una serie de traducciones, originalmente manuscritas en mi adolescencia, que se me ocurrieron en Gröna Lund, el parque de atracciones de Estocolmo. Vedlas como una presentación de Miguel Bosé al público sueco.

De här översättningarna var ursprungligen handskrivna i mina tonår och jag kom på dem på Gröna Lund i Stockholm. Se dem som en inledning i Miguel Bosé för svenska folket.

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DIN KÄRE KANALJE 

(Amante Bandido)

Av Miguel Bosé

Översatt från spanskan av Sandra Dermark

i sina tonår på Gröna Lund

Reviserat den 6 augusti 2023

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Jag ska bli

en varm sommarvind,

i mörkret skall

jag smeka din kind...

Du blir is,

kyligt pris,

iskall kyss som bränns...

Jag ska bli

en kärlekens storm,

du får bli vågen

som spolar oss bort...

Jag och du,

du och jag... Säg:

Vet du hur det känns?

Vet du hur det känns?

Vet du hur det känns?

.......................

Jag blir din käre kanalje, kanalje,

hjärtat sargat i kärleksbataljen,

jag blir din fångne kanalje, kanalje,

jag blir... åh!

Din ärkefiende, drömprins Montague,

den som fångats i kärleksbataljen,

för en sekund ska vi två fly tillsammans...

För evigt...

Jag blir en hjälte för dig!

..........................

Jag ska bli, för din skull, en karl:

jag tar farväl av den som jag var!

Jag och du,

du och jag,

har vi känslor kvar?

Har vi känslor kvar?

Har vi känslor kvar?

.............................

Jag blir din käre kanalje, kanalje,

hjärtat sargat i kärleksbataljen,

jag blir din fångne kanalje, kanalje,

jag blir... åh!

Din ärkefiende, drömprins Montague,

den som fångats i kärleksbataljen,

för en sekund ska vi två fly tillsammans...

För evigt...

Jag blir en hjälte för dig!

.....,,.....,...................

Jag blir den som för dig stupar, dig stupar,

av blessyrer, blessyrerna djupa,

jag blir din fångne kanalje, kanalje,

jag blir... Åh...

Och i vårt hemliga Eden, vi känner,

som för kärlek, för kärleken bränner,

får jag dö i dina armar och händer

för evigt

jag blir en hjälte för dig!

För evigt

jag blir en hjälte, jag blir en hjälte...

För evigt

Jag blir en hjälte för dig!!!

SAGA DE MIGUEL BOSÉ 3: FIESTA, ELD OCH KYLA

 Esta saga es una serie de traducciones, originalmente manuscritas en mi adolescencia, que se me ocurrieron en Gröna Lund, el parque de atracciones de Estocolmo. Vedlas como una presentación de Miguel Bosé al público sueco.

De här översättningarna var ursprungligen handskrivna i mina tonår och jag kom på dem på Gröna Lund i Stockholm. Se dem som en inledning i Miguel Bosé för svenska folket.

,........................,,.............

FIESTA, ELD OCH KYLA

(Fiesta siberiana)

Av Miguel Bosé

Översatt från spanskan av Sandra Dermark

i sina tonår på Gröna Lund

Reviserat den 6 augusti 2023

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Fiesta, eld och kyla,

morgon, vargar yla,

stjärnorna försvann, dagen tar vid,

regementet ska dra ut i strid...

Slut på frid! Slut på frid!

Spel på balalajka,

visa från Poltava:

"En löjtnants varma kyss en sommarkväll,

en kula trängde in, då tröt hans själ...

Tog farväl! Tog farväl!"

...........................

Iskalla ögon liksom våren här vid Vänerns strand,

stormvind som piskar oss när jag rör hennes kalla hand,

håller hon löftet om en evighet djupt inuti,

vill ej se upprepas sin allra värsta tragedi!

Dansa, min löjtnant, visa dig till regementets sång,

snurra din värja, du med blodrosor på vapenrock,

nu bryt den tystnad som för var, rekryt som officer,

innan den sista dag då slaget står ett öde ger!!!

Fiesta!!!

Och den fulla månen blir så sydländsk!

..........................

Skåla för tsar Peter, landets far!

Sjung att jag har kärlek för henne kvar!

Kärlek kvar! Kärlek kvar!

.................

Än minns jag novembernatten

och den blick som du förgör mig med...

Än minns jag novembernatten

och din blick som kan förgifta mig...

......................

Sorg som dränkts i vodka återuppstår,

han flyr genom en skog i fyra år...

Fyra år! Fyra år!

..................

Följer längs floder, blåa ådror i ett vackert land,

från täta skogar till en kultiverad västanstrand,

lämnar Sankt Petersburg och seglar bort under blek sol,

bort från en tsar, till drömmen om den mö jag hade i fjol...

DANSA!!!

Dansa, min löjtnant, vid en blommande midsommarstång,

snurra med rosorna i din värja och solblekta uniform,

nu bryt den tystnad som din älskade i fem år höll,

efter en landsflykt för de svaga knektar som ej föll!

Fiesta!!!

Och den fulla månen blir så sydländsk!

Fiesta...

DIVIDING THE SPOILS

Just a short Zexal fiction by Higuchimon I had to post; wartime AU; the victorious Barians claiming prisoners of war, to whom they are connected in some way or another in canon.

The war is over and it's time to decide the fate of the defeated. One by one, the Seven Emperors choose their prizes.

---

“Them.” Merag's frost-white hand waved toward two of the prisoners who stood huddled together, chains wrapped around their wrists and ankles. Her guards descended on the two chosen at once and hustled them out of the courtyard. No one paid any attention to their cries of fear and shock. The seven Barian Emperors had heard it all before and it made no impression on them anymore.

More prisoners remained, some of them slumping against one another in defeat, others glaring in defiance at their conquerers. A handful of the defiant ones remained gagged, proof that they hadn't given in to the inevitable in the slightest.

One of those caught Mizael's eye and he nodded toward his own guard. “Him.”

The moment the guard moved toward the chosen one, one of the younger ones protested, shaking his head. “Don't take brother away from me!”

Mizael gave one look toward the child, then toward the one he'd selected. The blond stared back from winter-sky blue eyes, one arm holding the child who claimed him as a brother.

“Both of them, then.” Mizael was not hard of heart, not that much. He could find use for both of them.

Not like the one who came next. Vector let out a long, cruel laugh when his chosen one had a sister who screamed bloody murder and swore to shred him alive if he laid one finger on 'Yuuma'.

“I welcome it if you can,” he told her with a careless smirk. “I'd like the challenge.”

He waved toward his minions, who took this 'Yuuma' away. The other Emperors pitied him, as they pitied anyone who Vector chose for his prize. If they ever saw him again, they knew he would be a different person.

Not that Vector's possessions tended to last long. He played rough with his toys.

Alit's choice – a tall redhead who would serve him well as a sparring partner – and Gilag's – a pretty young woman whose voice spoke of skill in music – passed quickly. Several captives remained, and by now even some of the more vocal ones fell silent, bowing to the inevitability of their fate.

Only Durbe and Nasch remained to choose. No one was surprised when they whispered to one another, for it would not be the first time they shared bounty with one another.

“You three.” Nasch pointed to one trio who stood close to one another, once fine clothes torn and tattered, but each one still with an air of elegance and ferocity to them. “We pick you.”

The tallest one threw back a wave of silver bright hair and stared at him. “For what?”

“And what makes you think we'll let you do whatever you want?” The second one, with a mix of red and gold hair, demanded. The third stayed silent; he hadn't said a word since Yuuma had been taken away.

Nasch and Durbe gave them each very severe looks. “Because you have no choice,” Durbe said. And they did not. War-prizes seldom did.

The End

If you hadn't noticed who the POWs claimed by the Barians were:

Mizael/Mizar picks Kite and Hart Tenjo (Mizar/-el being Kite's evil counterpart and long-standing rival in canon)

Vector picks Yuuma Tsukumo (and Akari-oneesama is not amused; Vector is trolling Yuuma all their character arc long in canon)

Alit/Alitho picks Nistro (whom he mind-controlled in canon)

Girag picks Scarlett Starling, the local idol singer (of whom he is a passionate fan in canon)

Nasch picks all three Arclights: Quinton, the eldest, is the silver-haired one; middle brother Quattro (with whom Reginald/Nasch has a constant vendetta) is the redhaired-and-blond one; youngest Arclight Trey is sobbing after Yuuma, one of his best friends and bromantic interest in canon (some fans ship Trey and Yuuma), was claimed by Vector

LA ESTROFA DEL VENCIDO

XII.

La estrofa del Vencido.

(Por Ángel Fernández de los Ríos)

¡No! La felicidad no estriba en una vida exenta de pruebas.
«Erase un día. La mano de Dios se había retirado; los soldados
de Abderahmán huían espantados ante el enemigo o sucumbían
aquí y allí a sus fatigas y a sus heridas. El mismo héroe, ensan-
grentado y desarmado, había sido hecho prisionero en el
combate.
¿Qué hacía Abderahmán, el gran Califa, mientras que dos
soldados castellanos, vencedores suyos, dejando descansar sus
cabalgaduras, departían sin recelo en su lengua materna, pues
solo veían un simple caballero en el que habían apresado?
Echado sobre la yerba, prestaba el oído, y su grande alma se
embriagaba en la derrota, en un manantial de goces que no hu-
biera hallado en la victoria.
—Abderahmán ha sido vencido por su culpa, decía uno de
los castellanos.
—Le han ofrecido venderle los secretos de su enemigo, y su
única respuesta ha sido hacer ahorcar al traidor.
—Sí; respondió el otro, detesta la traición así como admira
el valor, hasta en los que le combaten. –Es cierto, replicó el
primero, más de una vez se le ha visto socorrer a los soldados
cristianos tendidos sobre el campo de batalla,- y cierto día,
añadió el segundo, herido en el combate por mi padre, le perdonó
la vida, y le puso en libertad sin rescate.
Al llegar aquí, los soldados dirigieron sus miradas hacia Abde-
rahmán y vieron que corría la sangre de sus heridas. —«En
nombre de Abderahmán, dijo uno de ellos; yo restañaré tu san-
gre; y desgarró un pedazo de su túnica para curar la ancha heri-
da.— En nombre de Abderahmán, replicó el otro; eres libre
como mi padre quedó libre sin rescate.» Puso la brida de su
caballo en manos del prisionero y le indicó el camino que con-
ducia al campamento de los moros.
Abderahmán venció al dia siguiente, solo fue una jornada glo-
riosa: pero la víspera habia sido un dia feliz; habia podido me-
dir el grado de aprecio en que le tenían sus enemigos.»
Mansú hizo la duodécima pausa; Alhakem le dió las gracias
con la mirada y escribió: «Los valientes vencidos serán en lo su-
cesivo puestos en libertad sin rescate.»

THE RINGSTETTEN SAGA IX: MUTINY AND MAYHEM

Previously on the Ringstetten Saga:

Alois happens to have made friends with Thekla, though merely like siblings... but they must keep the distances, for His Lordship, drunk on success as he is, is rather protective of his wife's faithfulness and of his daughter's innocence. Thekla is courted by many suitors, three of which are actually a fifth column sent by the Kaiser from Vienna to watch the Duke of Friedland and inform the central government of his moves (though the would-be in-laws are unaware of the youths' agenda). Alois gets promoted to generalissimo's aide-de-camp's ensign, having to share entourage with Ladies Neubrunn and Brandeiss. He also gets to admire Wallenstein, and to learn of the duke's plans to team up with the Swedish regency for overthrowing the German Empire with a meticulously planned coup d'état!

Winter changes to spring, and both armies take to the field. But Sweden has lost power since the King's untimely death: the Regent reveals himself as a much worse leader, and a long and bloody losing streak ensues. Gerhard and Liselotte marry in the woods in spring, while more officers defect to Wallenstein's army following each lost confrontation...

To Gerhard, these defectors who trade their loyalty for lucre appear as turncoat traitors. He consequently snaps and kickstarts a mutiny in the ranks under the influence, right before he could be rewarded with a promotion to Rittmeister (cavalry captain), and they are subsequently expelled from the Swedish ranks: Gerhard (still a lieutenant), his wife and sister, and the few loyal to him (including Natasha, whose twin children have just died of the scarlet fever... and Volker, Horst having fallen at Lützen). 
He has also seen Alois wearing the scarlet coat as a Wallensteinian ensign (for the Croatian has risen to such a high rank) on the battlefield, yet distanced from the frontline due to his status as an aide.
After faking their deaths to avoid certain execution by firing squad, they become a band of outcast highwaymen that scour battlefields and ruins to survive. They get to fight other bands of similar criminals, that compete against them. The young blond in charge of our ragtag team (he has been an officer, alright?) defeats the leaders of other bands with Gustavus's battle-cry "Gott mit uns!" on his lips. But the young Prussian has also become a harsher and bloodthirstier leader than before, corporally punishing his followers (except Liselotte and Hedwig) if they dare contradict him... while within, the guilt for Gustavus's death tears at his broken heart.

In winter, Gerhard and Liselotte catch fish, trap hares, hunt crows with slingshots, and melt snow in a kettle to drink. Natasha dies while trying to protect her leader from a falling ice stalactite in a cave, getting impaled and asking the lieutenant to drink her blood if he can't wait until the snow-water du jour has cooled. It is disgusting, but Gerhard has no other choice. The bloodless carcass is subsequently used as bait for catching more crows and fish.
During later winters, however, these marauders will be able to procure strong drink and overindulge in it during their revels.

Meanwhile the same winter, in December 1633, during the Wallensteins' extravagant and outrageous Christmas revels, the Catholics lay siege to Friedland,  threatening to burn the chateau to the ground if the traitor Wallenstein does not surrender. The beleaguered duke flees abroad with his closest generals and officers, leaving the rest of the shire's residents, his wife and daughter among them, at the mercy of the Kaiser's men and their blazing flames. To make things worse, the garrison rises up in arms and sides with the Kaiser...

Luckily, Alois, who has regained his memories and witnessed a similar scene during the storming of Magdeburg (he couldn't save that seamstress and her daughter), conducts a daring plan to leave a burning Schloss Friedland with Isa and Thekla in tow, as the whole province is left to the mercy of the Kaiser's ranks. He succeeds, but they are captured by the Kaiser's men in the woods three days later, and all three are subsequently sent to a watchtower dungeon somewhere in the southern Rhineland. 
There, the lady and her daughter, broken down by excruciating torture on the rack, fall ill with high fever. Alois, the girl, and her mother survive, standing strong in face of privation. They manage to have the commandant send a letter of pardon, written by the maiden, to the Kaiser.
Then, weeks or maybe months later, Isabella and Thekla are surprisingly set free by order of the Kaiser himself, and they leave for a little chateau near Friedland, a gift from His Imperial Majesty (quite a consolation prize, after losing their father and husband).  
And then, winter changes into spring...

One day in the late spring of 1635, the prisoners suddenly hear loud and clear cannon shots: the Swedes are besieging their prison!

In the nearby woods, a familiar rag-tag band of ravenfolk, dwindled to three people (a blond young man and two girls) are waiting for the outcome of this confrontation. Guess their names!