English-Irish translation by Aislinn Ní Dhomhnaill

the prophecy that the main character, Lyra, will be the person to either save or destroy every existing world.

IRISH An Fadradharcán Ómra

translated by Aislinn Ní Dhomhnaill

Caibidil a 6 – An Túr Stuacach

“Anois, Pavel,” a deir Cúistiúnaí na Cúirte Smachtúla, “Ba mhaith liom go ndéanfaidh tú cur síos ar na focail a chuala tú ón gChailleach ar bord na loinge. D’amharc an giúiré ar an chléireach ag seasamh i measc solas lag na gréine. Sagart a bhí ann, le cuma léannta air, agus sprid i gcruth frog in aice leis. Le hocht lá anuas a bhí An Chúirt ag éisteacht le fianaise faoin gcás, sa seancholáiste.

“Ní cuimhin liom go díreach cad é a dúirt sí,” arsa Pavel agus é ag osnáil. “Ní raibh céastóireacht feicthe agam roimhe seo, mar a dúirt mé cheana, agus d’éirigh mé tinn dá bharr. Mar sin, níl a fhios agam go díreach cad a dúirt sí, ach is cuimhin liom an brí a bhí leis.Dúirt an Cailleach gur aithin clanna an Tuaiscirt an páiste Lyra mar ábhar tairngreachta a bhí ar eolas acu le fada. Beidh an chumhacht aici a rogha chinniúnach a dhéanamh, agus is ar sin a bhraithfeadh na domhain uilig. Agus bhí ainm ann, a thabharfadh chun cuimhne cás cosúil le seo,agus go mbeadh eagla ar an Eaglais roimpi.”

“Agus ar inis an Chailleach an t-ainm sin duit?”

“Níor inis. Sula raibh sí in ann é a rá, mharaigh chailleach eile dofheicthe í, agus d’éalaigh sí.”

“Is cinnte nár chuala Mrs. Coulter an t-ainm?”

ENGLISH "That is so."

"And shortly afterwards Mrs. Coulter left?"

"Indeed."

"What did you discover after that?"

"I learned that the child had gone into that other world opened by Lord Asriel, and that there she has acquired the help of a boy who owns, or has got the use of, a knife of extraordinary powers," said Fra Pavel. Then he cleared his throat nervously and went on: "I may speak entirely freely in this court?"

"With perfect freedom, Fra Pavel," came the harsh, clear tones of the President. "You will not be punished for telling us what you in turn have been told. Please continue." Reassured, the cleric went on:

"The knife in the possession of this boy is able to make openings between worlds. Furthermore, it has a power greater than that--please, once again, I am afraid of what I am saying...It is capable of killing the most high angels, and what is higher than them. There is nothing this knife cannot destroy." He was sweating and trembling, and his frog daemon fell from the edge of the witness stand to the floor in her agitation. Fra Pavel gasped in pain and scooped her up swiftly, letting her sip at the water in the glass in front of him.

"And did you ask further about the girl?" said the Inquirer. "Did you discover this name the witch spoke of?"

"Yes, I did. Once again I crave the assurance of the court that--"

"You have it," snapped the President. "Don't be afraid. You are not a heretic. Report what you have learned, and waste no more time."

“ ‘S ea.”

“Agus d’imigh Mrs. Coulter go gairid ina dhiaidh sin?”

“D’imigh.”

“Cad a d’fhoghlaim tú ina dhiaidh sin?”

“D’fhoghlaim mé gur imigh an páiste go dtí domhan eile a d’oscail an tUasal Asriel, agus go bhfuil cabhair faighte aici ó bhuachaill atá miodóg áirithe aige, agus go bhfuil cumhacht dochreidte ag an miodóg sin,” arsa Pavel. Ghlan sé a scornach go neirbhíseach agus lean sé ar aghaidh: “Tig liom labhairt go hionraic sa chúirt seo?”

“Amach is amach, Pavel,” a deir an t-Uachtarán ina ghuth garbh, soiléir. “Ní bheidh píonós ar bith curtha ort mar gheall ar an tiomna seo. Lean ort.”

“Tá cumas ag an miodóg sin bearna a chruthú idir domhan amháin agus domhan eile. Ar a bharr sin, tá cumas níos mó aige ná sin amháin—le bhur dtoil, tá eagla orm é seo a rá…d’fhéadfadh an miodóg na haingil is ardchéimiúla a mharú, agus cad atá níos airde ná iad. Níl rud ar bith narbh fhéidir leis a scriosadh.” Bhí sé ag cur allais agus ag croitheadh, agus thit a sprid ó chlár na mionn, chomh trína chéile is a bhí sí. Lig Pavel cnead leis an bpian, tharraing sé suas í, agus thug sé braon uisce di.

“Agus ar cheistigh tú a thuilleadh í faoin gcailín?” a d’fhiafraigh an Cúistiúnaí. “Ar aimsigh tú an t-ainm seo a luaigh an Chailleach?”

“D’aimsigh. Arís, teastaíonn gealltanas ón chúirt uaim go-”

“Is agat atá sé,” arsa an t-Uachtarán go giorraisc. “Ná bíodh eagla ort. Abair linn cad a d’fhoghlaim tú agus ná bí ag cur amú ama.”

ENGLISH "I beg your pardon, truly. The child, then, is in the position of Eve, the wife of Adam, the mother of us all, and the cause of all sin."

The stenographers taking down every word were nuns of the order of St. Philomel, sworn to silence; but at Fra Pavel's words there came a smothered gasp from one of them, and there was a flurry of hands as they crossed themselves. Fra Pavel twitched, and went on:

"Please, remember--the alethiometer does not forecast ; it says, 'If certain things come about, then the consequences will be...,' and so on. And it says that if it comes about that the child is tempted, as Eve was, then she is likely to fall. On the outcome will depend...everything. And if this temptation does take place, and if the child gives in, then Dust and sin will triumph." There was silence in the courtroom. The pale sunlight that filtered in through the great leaded windows held in its slanted beams a million golden motes, but these were dust, not Dust--though more than one of the members of the Court had seen in them an image of that other invisible Dust that settled over every human being, no matter how dutifully they kept the laws.

"Finally, Fra Pavel," said the Inquirer, "tell us what you know of the child's present whereabouts."

"She is in the hands of Mrs. Coulter," said Fra Pavel. "And they are in the Himalaya. So far, that is all I have been able to tell. I shall go at once and ask for a more precise location, and as soon as I have it, I shall tell the Court; but..."

He stopped, shrinking in fear, and held the glass to his lips with a trembling hand.

"Yes, Fra Pavel?" said Father MacPhail. "Hold nothing back."

"I believe, Father President, that the Society of the Work of the Holy Spirit knows more about this than I do." Fra Pavel's voice was so faint it was almost a whisper.

“Gabh mo leiscéal. Mar sin, is sa chinniúnt céanna le hÉabha, bean Ádhamh, ár máthair agus cúis peaca uile, atá an páiste, Lyra.”

Ba mná rialta agus iad faoi mhóid chiúnais mar luathscríobhnóirí; ach ligeadh cnead astu nuair a chuala said focail Pavel, agus bhí mearbhall orthu ar feadh nóiméad agus comhartha na croise á dhéanamh acu. Bhuail baoth-thonn Pavel, agus lean sé ar aghaidh:

“Le bhur dtoil- ná déan dearmaid, ní dhéanann an compás léitheoireachta réamhaisnéís;; deir sé ‘más rud é go dtarlaíonn rudaí áirithe, ansin na torthaí a bheidh ann ná…’ agus mar sin. Más rud é go meallfar an páiste, mar a mhealladh Éabha, seans mhaith go dtitfidh sí. Beidh… gach rud ag brait ar an toradh. Agus má tharlaíonn an cathú seo, agus má ghéilleann sí, beidh an bua ag an Damhna Dorcha agus ag an bpeaca.” Bhí ciúnas iomláin sa chúirt. Bhí na milliún damhna sa mheathsholas a chuir bhrat ar an tseomra, agus ba dhamhna é seo, seachas Damhna Dorcha, agus feictear iontu íomhá an Damhna eile sin a chur isteach ar achan duine, is cuma cé chomh umhal don dlí is atá siad.

“Ceart go leor, Pavel,” arsa an Cúistiúnaí, “inis dúinn cá háit ina bhfuil an páiste anois, más féidir leat.”

“Tá sí á choinneáil ag Mrs. Coulter,” a d’fhreagair Pavel. “Agus sna Himiléithe atá siad. Sin an t-aon rud atá ar eolas agam. Rachaidh mé láithreach agus gheobhaidh mé freagra níos cruinne duit. Chomh luath is atá a fhios agam, inseoidh mé leis an Chúirt, ach…”

Stad sé, eagla air, agus d’ól sé beagán uisce, a lámh ag croitheadh.

“Sin é, Pavel?” dúirt an tAthair MacPháil. “Inis gach rud dúinn.”

“Creidim, a Athair, go bhfuil níos mó eolais ag Sochaí an Spiorad Naofa faoin ábhar seo ná atá agam féin.” Bhí guth Pavel chomh híseal le cogar.

FRENCH Prophétie

by Jules Supervielles

Un jour la Terre ne sera Qu'un aveugle espace qui tourne Confondant la nuit et le jour. Sous le ciel immense des Andes Elle n'aura plus de montagnes, Même pas un petit ravin.

De toutes les maisons du monde Ne durera plus qu'un balcon Et de l'humaine mappemonde Une tristesse sans plafond De feu l'Océan Atlantique Un petit goût salé dans l'air, Un poisson volant et magique Qui ne saura rien de la mer.

D'un coupé de mil-neuf-cent-cinq (Les quatre roues et nul chemin!) Trois jeunes filles de l'époque

As the title suggests, this is a prophecy, a very pessimistic one,

Restées à l’état de vapeur Regarderont par la portière Pensant que Paris n’est pas loin Et ne sentiront que l’odeur Du ciel qui vous prend à la gorge.

A la place de la forêt

Un chant d’oiseau s’élèvera

Que nul ne pourra situer,

Ni préférer, ni même entendre,

Sauf Dieu qui, lui, l’écoutera

Disant : «C’est un chardonneret »