The Blind Earthworm in the Labyrinth

Jeju, co to jest za ksi膮偶ka!

Wci膮ga ju偶 esej t艂umacza na samym pocz膮tku, kt贸ry wyja艣nia zawi艂o艣ci tajskiego j臋zyka i opisuje, jak trudno jest odda膰 pi臋kno tego j臋zyka po angielsku – ale naszym zdaniem wysz艂o mu to znakomicie. To powie艣膰 pe艂na opis贸w, cz臋sto wr臋cz barokowo-poetyckich. Troch臋 tu buddyjskiej karmicznej drogi, troch臋 narracji rodem z opery mydlanej.

But before the clock struck three, she got up and made him sangria as sublime as the kind served at temple fairs鈥 talking until dawn.

Stories, old stories of days gone by: about the fountain with the moody swan statue that Pran had spent months looking for because he couldn鈥檛 find one in a colour she liked so had ended up buying one in bare concrete, which turned out to be much more attractive; about the Loy Krathong ceremony in which Chareeya put lampu seeds in a floating basket in the hopes that the Goddess Ganga would bear them across the oceans to the faraway Pacific islands, but it barely made it past the gazebo before capsizing and Chareeya entreated Pran to make her another one. He succumbed to her pleas and defied the darkness of the banana grove to cut a fresh shoot when Chareeya promised to place only her bad karma in the vessel, even though she ended up smuggling a few lampu seeds away.

Suddenly Pran felt the way people do when they realise they have lost some something dear to them, a cold snap froze his heart when he remembered that he had once know happy days, happy days that were long past.

Narracj臋 trzymaj膮 te偶 bujnie rosn膮ce i kwitn膮ce ro艣liny 鈥 z pi臋knie brzmi膮cymi nazwami, kt贸re wyt艂umaczone s膮 na ko艅cu ksi膮偶ki w specjalnym spisie. Czasami a偶 ma si臋 ochot臋 zas艂oni膰 nos, 偶eby nie czu膰 intensywnego zapachu kwiat贸w:

鈥淭he bitter aroma of ylang-ylang, melded with that of the mok flowers, Mon rose, and the faint misty scent of the pheep tree鈥溾

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