The Dogma of Molly Sands

The following poem was posted in the Yahoo: Discordia group:

La Muerte de Melisanda
A la sombra de los laureles
Melisanda se está muriendo.
Se morirá su cuerpo leve.
Enterrarán su dulce cuerpo.
Juntarán sus manos de nieve.
Dejarán sus ojos abiertos
para que alumbren a Pelleas
hasta después que se haya muerto.
A la sombra de los laureles
Melisanda muere en silencio.
Por ella llorará la fuente
un llanto trémulo y eterno.
Por ella orarán los cipreses
arrodillados bajo el viento.
Habrá galope de corceles,
lunarios ladridos de perros.
A la sombra de los laureles
Melisanda se está muriendo.
Por ella el sol en el castillo
se apagará como un enfermo.
la morirá Pelleas
cuando la lleven al entierro.
Por ella vagará de noche,
moribundo por los senderos.
Por ella pisará las rosas
perseguirá las mariposas
y dormirá en los cementerios.
Por ella, por ella, por ella
Pelleas, el príncipe, ha muerto.

Since many of us are Americans who have no interest in learning another language, we asked Abraxas and Gwydion to translate the poem for us. The following is an amalgamated version of the two translations – I chose the best lines from each and mixed them together.

The Death of Melisanda
In the shadow of the laurels
Melisande was dying.
Her light body will die.
They will bury her sweet body.
They will place her snow-white hands together.
They will lower her open eyes.
So she will shine like Pelleas
Until after she has died.
In the shadow of the laurels
Melisande dies in silence.
For her the fountain will cry
A tremulous and eternal cry.
For her the cypress will pray
Curved by the wind.
There will be galloping of horses,
Lunar barking of dogs.
In the shadow of the laurels
Melisanda is dying.
For her the sun in the castle
Will be blown out like a dying person.
For her Pelleas will die
When they take her body to be buried
For her he will wander the night
Moribund about the countryside
For her he will trample the roses
He will persue the butterflies
And he will sleep in the graveyards
For her, for her, for her
Pelleas, the prince, has died.

Again, being a proud American, I could not actually agree with these stupid foreigners without a fight. I consulted Eris and she did inform me that the message was not in spanish, but was in Beetleguise, which kind of looks like Spanish once in a while to the uninitiated. Therefore, with Eris’ help, I was able to translate the poem thusly:

The Dogma of Molly Sands

In the middle of the church bazaar
Molly Sands choked on a chicken bone
And as she lay, gasping for air
She thought of all her life and deeds
And realized she had been small and mean
It was now her eyes were opened.

She hadn’t a sense of what humor was
She had lived a life of seriousness.
In the middle of the church bazaar
Molly’s reverend tried CPR
But she didn’t notice as she thought.

Was it heaven or hell for her
She had thought she had lived a good life
And did as she was bid by fate
Like the sheep she was striving to emulate
In the middle of the church bazaar.

Molly Sands choked on a chicken bone
And though nothing else up to then could
It made her see the looked at the group
As she started to smile and whoop,
The laughter freed her throat.

That day transformed Molly to a new person
No longer a sheep but now human
She snickered at pain
And laughed hard at the rain
Knowing now what she knew about life.

The last line is left out, since it made the poem have an Unwholly 26 lines and I just could not bear that. Suffice to say, the last line referred to Molly’s later death at the hands of Cthulhu at the Festival of Ragnarok and was not important to the poem.

I hope that you foreigners are more careful translating poems with such wild abandon in the future, for it quite destroys a piece of art when you translate it from a language that it is not written in.

I thank you for your time.

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