page_49 13 - vigji/cainjb GitHub Wiki
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Annotated text:
I always feel a bit dazed on these occasions, and
was so then. But it was pleasant to collect
oneself, and count ones burdens---above and
beneath, and to ones hand as it were. I did so.
Yet I felt dazed. As I have said, I always did. I
was developing a bit of a yen for Henry, though
this was my first introduction to him. I am a
simple soul, and I must confess that I was
rather thrilled. It seemed that here was a man
of no ordinary fascination, with a chin cleft like
the toe-cap of a satyrs boot, and a little group
of show hairs behind each ear. Also he was
doomed to destroy, for family reasons, and to
keep on destroying. And I was still alone ; I
could hardly expect otherwise in the
circumstances. I echoed the words of the poet :
Bring Palamabron, horned priest, skipping upon
the mountains,
And silent Elynittria, the silver-bowed queen,
Rintrah, where has thou hid thy bride?
Weeps she in desert shades?
Alas! my Rintrah, bring the lovely jealous
Ocalythron.
Then against a possible invasion of my privacy, I
touched my white cheeks until they blushed.
My luck was not in. He was a typically
farm-labourer, with what thy’d call in
Bloomsbury a Newdigate fringe. Just like that
sort of a poet, I supposed they’d mean. He
anchored himself heavily, consciously waving
an empty pipe. Henry was now stooping over
the other body, whistling between its teeth.
What would I have done, I wondered? Really
this sort of thing was native to me in a way. I
wished there were water without going for it. I
remembered, of course, that there was a
conduit dating from 1597 standing here in the
market place. But that was of little use to me.
On the whole, I thought I would have as much
nerve as my dear hero. But one never knew.
Original page: page_49.pdf page_13.pdf
Original text:
I always feel a bit dazed on these occasions, and
was so then. But it was pleasant to collect
oneself, and count ones burdens---above and
beneath, and to ones hand as it were. I did so.
Yet I felt dazed. As I have said, I always did. I
was developing a bit of a yen for Henry, though
this was my first introduction to him. I am a
simple soul, and I must confess that I was
rather thrilled. It seemed that here was a man
of no ordinary fascination, with a chin cleft like
the toe-cap of a satyrs boot, and a little group
of show hairs behind each ear. Also he was
doomed to destroy, for family reasons, and to
keep on destroying. And I was still alone ; I
could hardly expect otherwise in the
circumstances. I echoed the words of the poet :
Bring Palamabron, horned priest, skipping upon
the mountains,
And silent Elynittria, the silver-bowed queen,
Rintrah, where has thou hid thy bride?
Weeps she in desert shades?
Alas! my Rintrah, bring the lovely jealous
Ocalythron.
Then against a possible invasion of my privacy, I
touched my white cheeks until they blushed.
My luck was not in. He was a typically
farm-labourer, with what thy’d call in
Bloomsbury a Newdigate fringe. Just like that
sort of a poet, I supposed they’d mean. He
anchored himself heavily, consciously waving
an empty pipe. Henry was now stooping over
the other body, whistling between its teeth.
What would I have done, I wondered? Really
this sort of thing was native to me in a way. I
wished there were water without going for it. I
remembered, of course, that there was a
conduit dating from 1597 standing here in the
market place. But that was of little use to me.
On the whole, I thought I would have as much
nerve as my dear hero. But one never knew.
Italian text: Quelle occasioni mi intontiscono sempre, e accadde anche in quel momento. Ma era piacevole riprendersi, contare i propri fardelli, quelli sopra e sotto, e quelli a portata di mano, si dà il caso. Lo feci. Eppure sentivo l'intontimento. Come ho detto, l'ho sempre sentito. Stavo sviluppando una sorta di debole per Henry, anche se ci eravamo appena incontrati. Sono un'anima semplice, e devo confessare di aver provato un certo entusiasmo. Mi sembrava di avere davanti un uomo dal fascino fuori dal comune, con una fossetta sul mento simile alla punta dello zoccolo di un satiro e un vistoso ciuffo di capelli dietro ciascun orecchio. Anche lui era destinato a distruggere, per motivi di famiglia, e a continuare a farlo. Ed ero ancora senza compagnia ; considerando le circostanze, non potevo aspettarmi niente di diverso. Riecheggiai le parole del poeta : Che entri Palamabron, sacerdote cornigero, colui che sfiora le montagne, E la silente Elynittria, la regina dall'argenteo Rintrah, dove hai celato la tua sposa? Sta piangendo ella nelle ombre desertiche? Ah! Mio Rintrah, conduci qui la deliziosamente gelosa Ocalythron.
Poi, per non attirare attenzioni indesiderate, mi pizzicai le guance fino a quando arrossarono. Non era il mio giorno fortunato. Lui era un classico contadino, con quella che a Bloomsbury definirebbero una barba da Newdigate. Proprio come quella specie di poeta, immagino intendessero. Si aggrappò, agitando deliberatamente una pipa vuota. Ora Henry, chino sull'altro cor-po, fischiava tra i denti. Mi chiesi che cosa avrei fatto io. A dire il vero questo tipo di cose, in un certo senso, era innato in me. Avrei voluto che ci fosse dell'acqua senza bisogno di andare a prenderla. Rammentai, ovviamen-te, che c'era una tubazione risalente al 1597 proprio lì, sulla piazza del mercato. Ma non mi sarebbe servita a molto. Nel complesso, pensai, avrei avuto lo stesso coraggio del mio caro eroe. Ma non si può mai sapere.