18 May 2019, 07:58
Sweet Duckling
A distant memory, etched away between one and another, crossed her mind as she lay in the grass...
Carina grabbed the corner of her mother's dress. “I want to go home!” Her mother responded with a stern look, making her shrink depper into the folds of her frilly pink dress. She felt like a fool; why did it have to be pink? She bet she looked just like on eof those silly dolls her grandmother had gifted her for Christmas. All they did was stay at her while she slept, wishing for the attention she would never give.
Rubbing her eye, at first to feign tiredness but then a yawn came about, Carina repeated, somewhat, “Sono stanco, vorrei andare a casa ora, per favore. 1”
Her mother cooed into her ear, running her fingers through the soft curls that would disappear as Carina got older. “Quiet, il mio più dolce. 2”
She loved her mother's accent. It was different than her Papa's; his was gruff yet soothing, and real. He was born and raised in Italy, a true IIaliano boy. Everytime he spoke he made her feel like everything she was saying was real; once he said it, it became fact.
His tongue never clipped like her mother's. She was a true blood American, from New York, St that, but she studied Italian while in college, teaching herself the language after meeting her best friend's cousin during a family reunion, or at least that's how Carina recalled it. Her mother was teased about being ‘love sick’ over her father, who was too ‘handsome and old’ for her, but it was probably just because of his looks, since he was a meer four years older. Then her mother was twenty-two and her parents, strict beyond belief, had specifically prohibited her from speaking to him, but once he took her on a date to his country, her mother couldn't let go. And of course Carina was glad, because she wouldn't be alive if she did.
Carina, eyes weighed by the fatigue, murmured something to her mother. “Cantami... una ninna nanna, per favore? Mostro e anatroccolo, sì. 3”
Her mother purred into her ear something sweet, than began humming something so soothing, like honey dripped onto the tongue unquenched. A tiny smile played on Carina's lips but soon sleep one over. Her mother, unclear if she knew this was the case, continued to him and then whispered the verses of a song, like the sunset caressing the land..
“Amore mio, amore mio
Come mi chiedo che cosa vedano quegli occhi.
Amore mio, amore mio
È dolce come tu e io respiriamo?
Per quanto ne so, so che il mondo è freddo
E tu provi a renderlo felice.
Perché tu sei l'amore della mia vita
E nulla può cambiarlo, prego.
I mostri possono venire di notte
Ma tu sei il mio prezioso anatroccolo.
Si pagaia, si muove, finché non si vede la luce
Per la tua preziosa fontana.
Perché senza il tuo raggio di luce
Potresti essere perso e dimenticato.
Amore mio, amore mio
Come mi chiedo che cosa vedano quegli occhi.
Amore mio, amore mio
È dolce come tu e io respiriamo?
Per quanto ne so, so che il mondo è freddo
E tu provi a renderlo felice.
Perché tu sei l'amore della mia vita
E nulla può cambiarlo, prego.
Sei il mio prezioso anatroccolo,
Non sarai mai dimenticato.
Perché tu sei il mio prezioso anatroccolo,
E tu non ... sarai dimenticato.”
***
Carina grabbed the corner of her mother's dress. “I want to go home!” Her mother responded with a stern look, making her shrink depper into the folds of her frilly pink dress. She felt like a fool; why did it have to be pink? She bet she looked just like on eof those silly dolls her grandmother had gifted her for Christmas. All they did was stay at her while she slept, wishing for the attention she would never give.
Rubbing her eye, at first to feign tiredness but then a yawn came about, Carina repeated, somewhat, “Sono stanco, vorrei andare a casa ora, per favore. 1”
Her mother cooed into her ear, running her fingers through the soft curls that would disappear as Carina got older. “Quiet, il mio più dolce. 2”
She loved her mother's accent. It was different than her Papa's; his was gruff yet soothing, and real. He was born and raised in Italy, a true IIaliano boy. Everytime he spoke he made her feel like everything she was saying was real; once he said it, it became fact.
His tongue never clipped like her mother's. She was a true blood American, from New York, St that, but she studied Italian while in college, teaching herself the language after meeting her best friend's cousin during a family reunion, or at least that's how Carina recalled it. Her mother was teased about being ‘love sick’ over her father, who was too ‘handsome and old’ for her, but it was probably just because of his looks, since he was a meer four years older. Then her mother was twenty-two and her parents, strict beyond belief, had specifically prohibited her from speaking to him, but once he took her on a date to his country, her mother couldn't let go. And of course Carina was glad, because she wouldn't be alive if she did.
Carina, eyes weighed by the fatigue, murmured something to her mother. “Cantami... una ninna nanna, per favore? Mostro e anatroccolo, sì. 3”
Her mother purred into her ear something sweet, than began humming something so soothing, like honey dripped onto the tongue unquenched. A tiny smile played on Carina's lips but soon sleep one over. Her mother, unclear if she knew this was the case, continued to him and then whispered the verses of a song, like the sunset caressing the land..
“Amore mio, amore mio
Come mi chiedo che cosa vedano quegli occhi.
Amore mio, amore mio
È dolce come tu e io respiriamo?
Per quanto ne so, so che il mondo è freddo
E tu provi a renderlo felice.
Perché tu sei l'amore della mia vita
E nulla può cambiarlo, prego.
I mostri possono venire di notte
Ma tu sei il mio prezioso anatroccolo.
Si pagaia, si muove, finché non si vede la luce
Per la tua preziosa fontana.
Perché senza il tuo raggio di luce
Potresti essere perso e dimenticato.
Amore mio, amore mio
Come mi chiedo che cosa vedano quegli occhi.
Amore mio, amore mio
È dolce come tu e io respiriamo?
Per quanto ne so, so che il mondo è freddo
E tu provi a renderlo felice.
Perché tu sei l'amore della mia vita
E nulla può cambiarlo, prego.
Sei il mio prezioso anatroccolo,
Non sarai mai dimenticato.
Perché tu sei il mio prezioso anatroccolo,
E tu non ... sarai dimenticato.”
Translations:
1 - “I'm tired, I'd like to go home now, please.”
2 - “...my sweetness”
3 - “Sing me...a lullaby, please. Monster and duckling, yes.”
Song -Reducio"My love, my love
How I wonder what those eyes see.
My love, my love
Is it sweet as you and I breathe?
As far as I know, I know the world is cold
And you try to make him happy.
Because you are the love of my life
And nothing can change it, please.
Monsters can come at night
But you are my precious duckling.
You paddle, move, until you see the light
For your precious as a fountain.
Because without your ray of light
You could be lost and forgotten.
My love, my love
How I wonder what those eyes see.
My love, my love
Is it sweet as you and I breathe?
As far as I know, I know the world is cold
And you try to make him happy.
Because you are the love of my life
And nothing can change it, please.
You're my precious duckling,
You will never be forgotten.
Because you are my precious duckling,
And you won't ... be forgotten. "
See the good.