My Italian word of the day: promessa

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ho intitolata: Storia di una capinera.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

Mia cara Marianna.
Avevo promesso di scriverti ed ecco come tengo la mia promessa! . . .

___________

Today’s new word

promessa (noun: feminine, singular) = promise

___________

A little bit of grammar

Nouns (nome)

A noun is a word used to identify a person, place, or thing. An Italian noun has an ending that changes depending on its gender and number. So, the ending of an Italian noun reveals its gender (masculine or feminine) and number (singular or plural).

Most nouns ending in ‘-o‘ are masculine and most nouns ending in ‘-a‘ are feminine.

___________

Example of use in a sentence

La delegazione cinese avrebbe portato un pacchetto di modeste concessioni, che riguarderebbe soprattutto la promessa di acquistare più prodotti agricoli ed energetici statunitensi.

      =

The Chinese delegation would have brought a package of modest concessions, which would mainly concern the promise to buy more US agricultural and energy products.

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why I have called this book: Story of a blackcap.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

My dear Marianna,
I promised to write to you and here is how I keep my promise! . . .

______

Maria, who had been in a convent since she was seven when her mother died, is now in Monte Ilice with her father, stepmother and stepbrothers, because a cholera epidemic in Catania has forced her to leave that convent. The story opens with a letter from Maria, now nineteen, to her friend and fellow novitiate, Marianna.

___________

Navigation

	Previous Italian Word of the Day: tengo	Next Italian Word of the Day: venti

___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

If you would like to take a peep at the vocabulary so far, please click here:

___________

My Italian word of the day: tengo

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ho intitolata: Storia di una capinera.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

Mia cara Marianna.
Avevo promesso di scriverti ed ecco come tengo . . .

___________

Today’s new word

tengo (verb: 1st person singular present indicative) = I hold, I keep, I support

___________

A little bit of grammar

tengo is the 1st person singular present indicative (1° persona singolare dell’indicativo presente) of the verb tenere (to hold, to support, to keep)

___________

Example of use in a sentence

Me li tengo stretti perché, malgrado tutto, credo ancora che la gente sia veramente buona di cuore.

      =

I hold them tight because, despite everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why I have called this book: Story of a blackcap.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

My dear Marianna,
I promised to write to you and here is how I keep . . .

______

Maria, who had been in a convent since she was seven when her mother died, is now in Monte Ilice with her father, stepmother and stepbrothers, because a cholera epidemic in Catania has forced her to leave that convent. The story opens with a letter from Maria, now nineteen, to her friend and fellow novitiate, Marianna.

___________

Navigation

	Previous Italian Word of the Day: come	Next Italian Word of the Day: promessa

___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

If you would like to take a peep at the vocabulary so far, please click here:

___________

My Italian word of the day: come

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ho intitolata: Storia di una capinera.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

Mia cara Marianna.
Avevo promesso di scriverti ed ecco come . . .

___________

Today’s new word

come (adverb) = how

___________

Example of use in a sentence

Come faccio a cancellare l’abbonamento?

      =

How do I cancel my subscription?

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why I have called this book: Story of a blackcap.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

My dear Marianna,
I promised to write to you and here is how . . .

______

Maria, who had been in a convent since she was seven when her mother died, is now in Monte Ilice with her father, stepmother and stepbrothers, because a cholera epidemic in Catania has forced her to leave that convent. The story opens with a letter from Maria, now nineteen, to her friend and fellow novitiate, Marianna.

___________

Navigation

	Previous Italian Word of the Day: scriverti	Next Italian Word of the Day: tengo

___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

If you would like to take a peep at the vocabulary so far, please click here:

___________

My Italian word of the day: scriverti

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ho intitolata: Storia di una capinera.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

Mia cara Marianna.
Avevo promesso di scriverti

___________

Today’s new word

scriverti (verb: infinitive with indirect object pronoun) = to write to you (familiar)

___________

A little bit of grammar

Pronouns: indirect objects

mi         (to/for) me
ti           (to/for) you (familiar, singular)
Le         (to/for) you (formal, singular)
gli         (to/for) him, it
le          (to/for) her, it

ci          (to/for) us
vi          (to/for) you (familiar, plural)
Loro     (to/for) you (formal, plural)
loro      (to/for) them

___________

Example of use in a sentence

Questa sera sentivo davvero la necessità di scriverti.

      =

Tonight, I really felt the need to write to you.

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why I have called this book: Story of a blackcap.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

My dear Marianna,
I promised to write to you

______

Maria, who had been in a convent since she was seven when her mother died, is now in Monte Ilice with her father, stepmother and stepbrothers, because a cholera epidemic in Catania has forced her to leave that convent. The story opens with a letter from Maria, now nineteen, to her friend and fellow novitiate, Marianna.

___________

Navigation

	Previous Italian Word of the Day: promesso	Next Italian Word of the Day: come

___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

If you would like to take a peep at the vocabulary so far, please click here:

___________

My Italian word of the day: promesso

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ho intitolata: Storia di una capinera.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

Mia cara Marianna.
Avevo promesso

___________

Today’s new word

promesso (verb: past participle) = have promised

___________

Example of use in a sentence

Faccio quello che avevo promesso e continuerò con questa strada.

      =

I shall do what I have promised and continue on this path.

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why I have called this book: Story of a blackcap.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

My dear Marianna,
I have promised

______

Maria, who had been in a convent since she was seven when her mother died, is now in Monte Ilice with her father, stepmother and stepbrothers, because a cholera epidemic in Catania has forced her to leave that convent. The story opens with a letter from Maria, now nineteen, to her friend and fellow novitiate, Marianna.

___________

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___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

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___________

My Italian word of the day: cara

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ho intitolata: Storia di una capinera.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

Mia cara

___________

Today’s new word

cara (adjective: feminine, singular) = dear

___________

Example of use in a sentence

Cara gattina chissà cosa sogni mentre dormi.

      =

Dear kitten, who knows what you are dreaming while you sleep.

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why I have entitled this story: Story of a blackcap.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

My dear

______

Maria, who had been in a convent since she was seven when her mother died, is now in Monte Ilice with her father, stepmother and stepbrothers, because a cholera epidemic in Catania has forced her to leave that convent. The story opens with a letter from Maria, now nineteen, to her friend and fellow novitiate, Marianna.

___________

Navigation

	Previous Italian Word of the Day: mia	Next Italian Word of the Day: promesso

___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

If you would like to take a peep at the vocabulary so far, please click here:

___________

My Italian word of the day: mia

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ho intitolata: Storia di una capinera.

______

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

Mia

___________

Today’s new word

mia (possessive adjective: feminine, singular) = my

___________

Example of use in a sentence

Addio, mia bella Napoli.

      =

Goodbye, my beautiful Naples.

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why I have entitled this story: Story of a blackcap.

______

Maria, who has been in a convent since her mother died when she was seven, is in Monte Ilice with her father, stepmother and stepbrothers, because a cholera epidemic in Catania has forced her to leave the convent. The story opens with a letter from Maria, now nineteen, to her friend and fellow novitiate, Marianna.

Monte Ilice, 3 Settembre 1854

My

___________

Navigation

	Previous Italian Word of the Day: intitolata	Next Italian Word of the Day: cara

___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

If you would like to take a peep at the vocabulary so far, please click here:

___________

My Italian word of the day: intitolata

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ho intitolata: Storia di una capinera.

___________

Today’s new word

intitolata (verb: past participle) = entitled

___________

Example of use in a sentence

Dal suo libro è stata tratta una pièce teatrale intitolata “Cartoline da Berlino”.

      =

A play entitled “Postcards from Berlin” was made from his book.

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why I have entitled this story: Story of a blackcap.

___________

Translator’s Notes

The current sentence is long and obscure when translated word by word (and word for word). It will become clearer as more words are translated and rearranged into a more recognizable English structure.

___________

Navigation

	Previous Italian Word of the Day: ho	Next Italian Word of the Day: mia

___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

If you would like to take a peep at the vocabulary so far, please click here:

___________

My Italian word of the day: ho

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ho . . . 

___________

Today’s new word

ho (verb: present indicative) = I have

___________

A little bit of grammar

ho is the 1st person singular of the present indicative (1° persona singolare dell’indicativo presente) of the verb avere.

The present indicative of the verb avere:

ho             –  I have
hai            –  you have
ha             –  he, she, it has, you (formal) have

abbiamo   –  we have
avete         –  you have
hanno       –  they have, you (formal) have

___________

Example of use in a sentence

Con la Juventus ho imparato a vincere.

      =

With Juventus I have learnt to win.

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why it I have . . . 

___________

Translator’s Notes

The current sentence is long and obscure when translated word by word (and word for word). It will become clearer as more words are translated and rearranged into a more recognizable English structure.

___________

Navigation

	Previous Italian Word of the Day: l’	Next Italian Word of the Day: intitolata

___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

If you would like to take a peep at the vocabulary so far, please click here:

___________

My Italian word of the day: l’

I have set myself the challenge of translating ‘Storia di una Capinera’ by Giovanni Verga into English at the rate of one word a day.

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; . . .

___________

The story so far

(Original text)

Storia di una capinera

Avevo visto una povera capinera chiusa in gabbia: era timide, triste, malaticcia ci guardava con occhio spaventato; si rifuggiava in un angolo della sua gabbia, e allorché udiva il canto allegro degli altri uccelletti che cinguettavano sul verde del prato o nell’azzurro del cielo, li seguiva con uno sguardo che avrebbe potuto dirsi pieno di lagrime. Ma non osava ribellarsi, non osava tentare di rompere il fil di ferro che la teneva carcerata, la povera prigioniera. Eppure i suoi custodi, le volevano bene, cari bambini che si trastullavano col suo dolore e le pagavano la sua malinconia con miche di pane e con parole gentili. La povera capinera cercava rassegnarsi, la meschinella; non era cattiva; non voleva rimproverarli neanche col suo dolore, poiché tentava di beccare tristamente quel miglio e quelle miche di pane; ma non poteva inghiottirle. Dopo due giorni chinò la testa sotto l’ala e l’indomani fu trovata stecchita nella sua prigione.

Era morta, povera capinera! Eppure il suo scodellino era pieno. Era morta perché in quel corpicino c’era qualche cosa che non si nutriva soltanto di miglio, e che soffriva qualche cosa oltre la fame e la sete.

Allorché la madre dei due bimbi, innocenti e spietati carnefici del povero uccelletto, mi narrò la storia di un’infelice di cui mura del chiostro avevano imprigionato il corpo, e la superstizione e l’amore avevano torturato lo spirito: una di quelle intime storie, che passano inosservate tutti i giorni, storia di un cuore tenero, timido, che aveva amato e pianto e pregato senza osare di far scorgere le sue lagrime o di far sentire la sua preghiera; che infine si era chiuso nel suo dolore ed era morto; io pensai alla povera capinera che guardava il cielo attraverso le gretole della prigione; che non cantava; che beccava tristamente il suo miglio; che aveva piegato la testolina sotto l’ala ed era morta.

Ecco perché l’ . . . 

___________

Today’s new word

l’ (pronoun: direct object; masculine or feminine; before a vowel) = he, she or it

___________

Example of use in a sentence

L’ho comprato a Parigi.

      =

I have bought it in Paris.

___________

My Translation

Story of a blackcap

By Giovanni Verga
(translated by Eddie Bosticco)

I had seen a poor blackcap locked in a cage: shy, sad and sickly, she watched us with terrified eyes. She cowered in the corner of her cage and on hearing the joyful singing of the other small birds in the green meadow and in the blue sky, her gaze followed the sound with an expression that one would say was full of tears. But she dared not rebel, she dared not try to break the iron wire that held her captive, the poor prisoner. And yet her wardens, dear children, loved her. They amused themselves with her suffering and rewarded her for her distress with crumbs of bread and kind words. The poor blackcap was trying to adapt, pathetic little wretch; she was not bad; she did not want to reproach them not even with her distress, after all she was desperately trying to peck at the millet and the bread crumbs, but she could not to swallow them. After two days she tucked her head under her wing and the following day she was found cold and stiff in her prison.

She was dead! Poor little blackcap! Yet, her little bowl was full. She was dead because there was something in that tiny body that did not feed on millet alone, and that was suffering something more than hunger and thirst.

When the mother of the two children, the innocent and cruel torturers of the poor little bird, told me the story of an unfortunate whose body had been imprisoned by cloister walls and whose spirit had been tortured by superstition and love: one of those personal dramas that take place, unobserved, every day; the story of a tender, timid heart that had loved and cried and prayed without daring to let her tears be seen or her prayer be heard; and that; finally; she had locked herself in her suffering and had died; I thought of the poor blackcap that was staring up at the sky through the bars of her prison; that was not singing; that was sadly pecking at her millet; that had folded her little head under her wing and was dead.

That is why it . . . 

___________

Translator’s Notes

The current sentence is long and obscure when translated word by word (and word for word). It will become clearer as more words are translated and rearranged into a more recognizable English structure.

___________

Navigation

	Previous Italian Word of the Day: ecco	Next Italian Word of the Day: ho

___________

 

If you would like to follow this story from the first word, please click here:

 

If you would like to take a peep at the vocabulary so far, please click here:

___________