TRA LA MIROR
La casa mirorida · La jardin de flores vivente · Insetos mirorida · Rococin e Rococon · Lana e acua · Ovaluna · Leon e Unicorno · “Me mesma ia inventa lo” · Un vespa perucida · Rea Alisia · Luta · Muta · Ci ia fa la sonia?

Cuando Lewis Carroll ia scrive Tra la miror, el ia omete un capitol cual John Tenniel, la desinior de la pitures, ia oposa. La capitol ia es nomida “Un vespa perucida”. Lo ia es perdeda tra plu ca sento anios. Lo ia repare entre alga probas de presa cual on ia subasta a Sotheby’s a un vende de manoscritos en julio de 1974. La subastada ia conteni ses pajes con revisas scriveda par la mano de Carroll mesma, e un comanda (ance par el) per elimina intera la capitol.

Alga persones crede ce la capitol es falsa, sentinte ce la scrive ave un cualia min alta ca la resta de la libro. An tal, en junio 1870, Tenniel ia fa un letera a Carroll, do el ia sujesta sutrae la capitol sur la vespa, car lo “tota no interesa” el e car el “no pote vide sua via a un pitur”. Tenniel ia comenta ance ce “un vespa perucida es intera ultra la aplicas de arte”.

Capitol 8a: Un vespa perucida

Chapter VIII-a. A WASP IN A WIG.

… el es ja a punto de salta per traversa, cuando el oia un suspira profonda, cual pare veninte de la bosce pos el.

… and she was just going to spring over, when she heard a deep sigh, which seemed to come from the wood behind her.

“On ave ala algun multe nonfelis,” el pensa, ansiosa turnante sua regarda per vide cual es la problem. Un cosa simil a un om multe vea (estra ce sua fas es plu simil a un vespa) senta sur la tera, apoiante a un arbor, tota compresada en se, e tremante como si el es multe fria.

“There’s somebody very unhappy there,” she thought, looking anxiously back to see what was the matter. Something like a very old man (only that his face was more like a wasp) was sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree, all huddled up together, and shivering as if he were very cold.

“Me no crede ce me pote aida el en cualce modo,” es la pensa prima de Alisia, en cuando el turna per salta a traversa de la rieta: “ma me va demanda mera a el sua problem,” el ajunta, parante se a la borda mesma. “Pos salta a traversa a an un sola ves, tota va cambia, e alora me no va pote aida el.”

“I don’t think I can be of any use to him,” was Alice’s first thought, as she turned to spring over the brook: “but I’ll just ask him what’s the matter,” she added, checking herself on the very edge. “If I once jump over, everything will change, and then I can’t help him.”

Donce el revade a la Vespa—alga nonvolente, car el es multe zelosa per deveni un rea.

So she went back to the Wasp—rather unwillingly, for she was very anxious to be a queen.

“O! mea osos vea, mea osos vea!” la Vespa cexa en cuando Alisia prosimi a el.

“Oh, my old bones, my old bones!” he was grumbling as Alice came up to him.

“Los es reumatica, me suposa,” Alisia dise a se, e el curvi supra el, e dise multe jentil, “Me espera ce tu no dole tro multe?”

“It’s rheumatism, I should think,” Alice said to herself, and she stooped over him, and said very kindly, “I hope you’re not in much pain?”

La Vespa fa no plu ca secute sua spalas, e turna sua testa a via. “A! ai!” el dise a se.

The Wasp only shook his shoulders, and turned his head away. “Ah deary me!” he said to himself.

“Esce me pote aida tu?” Alisia continua. “Esce tu no es alga fria asi?”

“Can I do anything for you?” Alice went on. “Aren’t you rather cold here?”

“Tu babela tan!” la Vespa en un tono iritable. “Ansia, ansia! On ia conose nunca un tal enfante!”

“How you go on!” the Wasp said in a peevish tone. “Worrity, worrity! There never was such a child!”

Alisia senti alga ofendeda par esta responde, e es cuasi a punto de pasea plu e lasa el, cuando el pensa a se: “Cisa mera la dole fa ce el es tan disputosa.” Donce el atenta denova.

Alice felt rather offended at this answer, and was very nearly walking on and leaving him, but she thought to herself “Perhaps it’s only pain that makes him so cross.” So she tried once more.

“Esce tu no ta permete ce me aida tu a la otra lado? Tu no va senti ala la venta fria.”

“Won’t you let me help you round to the other side? You’ll be out of the cold wind there.”

La Vespa prende sua braso, e permete ce el aida el sirca la arbor, ma pos recomforta se, el dise sola, como a ante, “Ansia, ansia! Esce tu no va sesa disturba me?”

The Wasp took her arm, and let her help him round the tree, but when he got settled down again he only said, as before, “Worrity, worrity! Can’t you leave a body alone?”

“Esce tu ta gusta ce me leje alga de esta a tu?” Alisia continua, prendente un jornal dial cual reposa a la pedes de la Vespa.

“Would you like me to read you a bit of this?” Alice went on, as she picked up a newspaper which had been lying at his feet.

“Tu pote leje lo si tu desira tal,” la Vespa dise, alga malumorosa. “Me es consensa de nun ci impedi tu.”

“You may read it if you’ve a mind to,” the Wasp said, rather sulkily. “Nobody’s hindering you, that I know of.”

Donce Alisia senta a sua lado, e estende la jornal sur sua jenos, e comensa. “Avenis nova. La Grupo Esplorante ia fa un turi nova en la Saleta de Comedas, e ia trova sinco pesos nova de zucar blanca, grande, e en bon state. En reveni—”

So Alice sat down by him, and spread out the paper on her knees, and began. “Latest News. The Exploring Party have made another tour in the Pantry, and have found five new lumps of white sugar, large and in fine condition. In coming back—”

“Ance zucar brun?” la Vespa interompe.

“Any brown sugar?” the Wasp interrupted.

Alisia fa ce sua regarda desende rapida la paje e dise, “No. Lo dise no cosa sur brun.”

Alice hastily ran her eyes down the paper and said “No. It says nothing about brown.”

“No zucar brun!” la Vespa ronca. “Un bon grupo esplorante!”

“No brown sugar!” grumbled the Wasp. “A nice exploring party!”

“En reveni,” Alisia leje plu, “los ia trova un lago de melasa. La rivas de la lago ia es blu e blanca, e ia aspeta como porselana. En proba la sabor de la melasa, los ia sufri un asidente triste: du de sua grupo ia es engolpida—”

“In coming back,” Alice went on reading, “they found a lake of treacle. The banks of the lake were blue and white, and looked like china. While tasting the treacle, they had a sad accident: two of their party were engulped—”

“Ia es cual?” la Vespa demanda en un vose multe iritada.

“Were what?” the Wasp asked in a very cross voice.

“En-golf-i-da,” Alisia repete, dividente la parola a silabas.

“En-gulph-ed,” Alice repeated, dividing the word in syllables.

“La lingua conteni no tal parola!” la Vespa dise.

“There’s no such word in the language!” said the Wasp.

“La jornal conteni lo, an tal,” Alisia dise alga timida.

“It’s in the newspaper, though,” Alice said a little timidly.

“Ta ce nos para aora!” la Vespa dise, turnante frustrada sua testa a via.

“Let’s stop it here!” said the Wasp, fretfully turning away his head.

Alisia pone la jornal. “Me teme ce tu no es sana,” el dise en un tono calminte. “Esce vera me no pote aida tu?”

Alice put down the newspaper. “I’m afraid you’re not well,” she said in a soothing tone. “Can’t I do anything for you?”

“Me culpa la peruca per tota,” la Vespa dise en un vose multe plu jentil.

“It’s all along of the wig,” the Wasp said in a much gentler voice.

“Culpa la peruca?” Alisia repete, multe plaseda par trova ce la Vespa regania sua bon umor.

“Along of the wig?” Alice repeated, quite pleased to find that he was recovering his temper.

“Ance tu ta es iritada, si tua peruca ta sembla la mea,” la Vespa continua. “On broma, a me. E on ajita me. E alora iritada me deveni. E fria me deveni. E su un arbor me vade. E me prende un teleta jala. E me lia mea fas—como a presente.”

“You’d be cross too, if you’d a wig like mine,” the Wasp went on. “They jokes, at one. And they worrits one. And then I gets cross. And I gets cold. And I gets under a tree. And I gets a yellow handkerchief. And I ties up my face—as at the present.”

Alisia regarda compatiante el. “Lia la fas es multe bon per un dole de dente,” el dise.

Alice looked pityingly at him. “Tying up the face is very good for the toothache,” she said.

“E lo es multe bon per un egosia,” la Vespa ajunta.

“And it’s very good for the conceit,” added the Wasp.

Alisia no ia oia bon la parola. “Esce acel es un spesie de dole de dente?” el demanda.

Alice didn’t catch the word exactly. “Is that a kind of toothache?” she asked.

La Vespa considera alga. “Ma no,” el dise: “lo es cuando on teni levada sua testa—tal—sin curvi sua col.”

The Wasp considered a little. “Well, no,” he said: “it’s when you hold up your head—so—without bending your neck.”

“O! tu refere a un col rijida,” Alisia dise.

“Oh, you mean stiff-neck,” said Alice.

La Vespa dise, “Acel es un nom de moda nova. En mea eda, on ia nomi lo un egosia.”

The Wasp said, “That’s a new-fangled name. They called it conceit in my time.”

“Egosia no es an un maladia,” Alisia comenta.

“Conceit isn’t a disease at all,” Alice remarked.

“Lo es, an tal,” la Vespa dise: “espeta asta cuando tu sufri de lo, e tu va sabe alora. E cuando tu es malada con lo, atenta mera lia un teleta jala sirca tua fas. Lo va sani tu, direta!”

“It is, though,” said the Wasp: “wait till you have it, and then you’ll know. And when you catches it, just try tying a yellow handkerchief round your face. It’ll cure you in no time!”

El deslia la teleta en parla, e Alisia regarda sua peruca con surprende grande. Lo es forte jala como la teleta, e intera maraniada e rolada de asi a ala como un monton de algas. “Tu ta pote ordina multe plu tua peruca,” el dise, “si tu ta usa mera un peten, per favo—”

He untied the handkerchief as he spoke, and Alice looked at his wig in great surprise. It was bright yellow like the handkerchief, and all tangled and tumbled about like a heap of sea-weed. “You could make your wig much neater,” she said, “if only you had a comb.”

“Cual! tu es un Abea, si?” la Vespa dise, regardante el con plu interesa. “E tu ave un favo. Multe miel?”

“What, you’re a Bee, are you?” the Wasp said, looking at her with more interest. “And you’ve got a comb. Much honey?”

“Lo no es un favo,” Alisia esplica fretosa. “Lo es un util per peteni capeles—tua peruca es tan multe bruta, tu sabe.”

“It isn’t that kind,” Alice hastily explained. “It’s to comb hair with—your wig’s so very rough, you know.”

“Me va informa tu perce me ia comensa porta lo,” la Vespa dise. “En mea jovenia, tu sabe, mea capeles ia risa—”

“I’ll tell you how I came to wear it,” the Wasp said. “When I was young, you know, my ringlets used to wave—”

Un idea strana veni en la testa de Alisia. Cuasi cadun ci el ia encontra ia resita poesia a el, e el pensa ce el va descovre esce ance la Vespa pote fa lo. “Esce tu ta dise lo en rimas, per favore?” el demanda multe cortes.

A curious idea came into Alice’s head. Almost every one she had met had repeated poetry to her, and she thought she would try if the Wasp couldn’t do it too. “Would you mind saying it in rhyme?” she asked very politely.

“Me no abitua,” la Vespa dise: “an tal, me va atenta; espeta tra un minuto.” El es silente tra alga momentos, e alora recomensa—

“It aint what I’m used to,” said the Wasp: “however I’ll try; wait a bit.” He was silent for a few moments, and then began again—

En mea jovenia, mea capeles
Ia risa curva sur mea spala:
Ma on ia dise “Rasa tu,
E porta un peruca jala.”

When I was young, my ringlets waved
And curled and crinkled on my head:
And then they said “You should be shaved,
And wear a yellow wig instead.”

Ma cuando plu a mea aspeta
Me ia aplica la consela,
On ia responde ce me no
Es, como prevideda, bela.

But when I followed their advice,
And they had noticed the effect,
They said I did not look so nice
As they had ventured to expect.

//On ia esplica ce l’ peruca
Conveni mal e pare povre:
Ma como me ta debe ata?
Mea risas no va cres’ per covre.//

They said it did not fit, and so
It made me look extremely plain:
But what was I to do, you know?
My ringlets would not grow again.

Aora mea capeles manca,
Car me es multe gris e vea,
Pos vide me, on va esclama
“Tu porta un peruca fea!”

So now that I am old and grey,
And all my hair is nearly gone,
They take my wig from me and say
“How can you put such rubbish on?”

E sempre cuando me apare,
On burla me e cria “Pupa!”
On fa lo con razona, cara:
Me porta jala un peruca.

And still, whenever I appear,
They hoot at me and call me “Pig!”
And that is why they do it, dear,
Because I wear a yellow wig.

“Me compatia multe tu,” Alisia dise enerjiosa: “e me crede ce, si tua peruca ta conveni pico plu bon, on no ta burla tan estrema multe tu.”

“I’m very sorry for you,” Alice said heartily: “and I think if your wig fitted a little better, they wouldn’t tease you quite so much.”

“Tua peruca conveni multe bon,” la Vespa murmura, regardante el con un espresa de amira: “par causa de la forma de tua testa. Ma tua mandibulas no es bon formida—me suposa ce tu no pote morde fasil, si?”

“Your wig fits very well,” the Wasp murmured, looking at her with an expression of admiration: “it’s the shape of your head as does it. Your jaws aint well shaped, though—I should think you couldn’t bite well?”

Alisia comensa un xilia peti de rie, cual el converti a un tose, tan bon como el pote. Final, el susede dise seria, “Me pote morde cualce cosa cual me vole.”

Alice began with a little scream of laughing, which she turned into a cough as well as she could. At last she managed to say gravely, “I can bite anything I want.”

“No con un boca tan peti como acel,” la Vespa ostina. “Si tu ta es en combate, aora—esce tu ta pote saisi la nuca de la otra person?”

“Not with a mouth as small as that,” the Wasp persisted. “If you was a-fighting, now—could you get hold of the other one by the back of the neck?”

“Me regrete ce no,” Alisia dise.

“I’m afraid not,” said Alice.

“Bon, acel es car tua mandibulas es tro corta,” la Vespa continua: “ma la culmina de tua testa es bon ronda.” El desapone sua propre peruca en parla, e estende un gara en dirije a Alisia, como si el desira fa la mesma a el, ma el teni se ultra capasia de ateni, e refusa aseta la proposa. Donce la Vespa continua con sua criticas.

“Well, that’s because your jaws are too short,” the Wasp went on: “but the top of your head is nice and round.” He took off his own wig as he spoke, and stretched out one claw towards Alice, as if he wished to do the same for her, but she kept out of reach, and would not take the hint. So he went on with his criticisms.

“A pos, tua oios—los es multe tro fronte, sin duta. Un sola ta sufisi egal bon como du, si los debe es tan prosima a lunlotra—”

“Then, your eyes—they’re too much in front, no doubt. One would have done as well as two, if you must have them so close—”

Alisia no gusta ce on fa tan multe comentas personal sur el, e, car la Vespa ia recovre ja tota sua bon umor, e deveni multe parlosa, Alisia opina ce el pote profita de la situa e parti de el. “Me crede ce me debe pasea plu aora,” el dise. “Adio.”

Alice did not like having so many personal remarks made on her, and as the Wasp had quite recovered his spirits, and was getting very talkative, she thought she might safely leave him. “I think I must be going on now,” she said. “Good-bye.”

“Adio, e mea grasias,” la Vespa dise, e Alisia brinca denova en desende la colina, multe contente ce el ia revade per dona alga minutos a fa ce la povre animal vea deveni comfortosa.

“Good-bye, and thank-ye,” said the Wasp, and Alice tripped down the hill again, quite pleased that she had gone back and given a few minutes to making the poor old creature comfortable.