"Aika y Maa II"
Érase
una vez Aika, la Pirata más Troceadora del Mar Interior.
Alta
y baja, con los ojos azules y castaños, el pelo claro y oscuro, es el centro de
la Gran Batalla.
Con
una mano empuña el Sable Troceador. Con la otra mano embrida a Tozudo, su barco
salvaje. Galopan entre vivos y muertos. La Gran Batalla siempre ha sido y será.
Hace
siglos que Tozudo perdió la tripulación; la violencia la arrancó de cubierta.
Ahora son las bestias del firmamento.
Aika
sola, agotada, se acurruca. El Sable Troceador teje el Cuento a mandobles.
Mira.
Ni
abajo ni arriba, ni delante ni detrás, ni ayer ni mañana. Todo es uno. Todo es
Aika. Su mejilla roza cálida la flor del almendro. ¿Dónde está?
El
zumbido de la abeja. “¡Aika!”… es su amigo Maa. Está en casa.
"Aika and Maa II"
Once upon a
time there was a pirate, Aika, who did more slicing up than anyone else on the
whole of the Inner Sea.
She was both tall and short. Her eyes were blue and
her eyes were brown. She had blonde hair and chestnut hair. Aika was at the
centre of the Great Battle.
With one hand she unsheathed Slicer, her sabre. With
the other, she held the reins of Stubborn, her wild boat. They galloped between
the living and the dead. The Great Battle had always existed and always would.
It is centuries since Stubborn lost her crew; the deck
was ripped off by the hand of violence. Now they are wild creatures of the
firmament.
Aika, alone, crouches down exhausted. Slicer, her sabre,
weaves the Tale with two-handed blows.
Look.
Neither below nor above, neither in front nor behind,
neither yesterday nor tomorrow. Everything is one. Everything is Aika. Her cheek,
warm still, caresses the almond flower. Where is she?
The humming of the bee. “Aika!”… It’s her friend Maa.
She’s at home.
