May 17th, 2020

Seminarist

The odour of sanctity

I had a fear of that Priest which was quite different from my fear of my father. I think what frightened me (In those early days) was the holiness of the smell that hung about him - a temple-smell of blood (mostly pigeons' blood, but he had sacrificed men, too) and burnt fat and singed hair and wine and stale incense.

C. S. Lewis, "Till We Have Faces", 1.

Я боялась Жреца, но совсем не так, как боялась своего отца. Ужас внушал мне запах, который источал Жрец. Это был запах святости, запах храма, запах жертвенной крови (обычно голубиной, но иногда - человеческой), запах горелого жира, паленых волос и прогорклого ладана.

пер. И. Кормильцева
Seminarist

(no subject)

Lepus ille ranam in palude inmersam videns, cur, ait, tam foeda es, virens et cenosa? Nequaquam, inquit, absque modo aegroto. At reapse quam candida laneaque sum.