page_82 - vigji/cainjb GitHub Wiki

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Annotated text: I forgot why I was sitting and staring at the table. I felt battered. What could the batter be? Ah, I remembered. I had looked upon carnal, bloody and unnatural acts.

And then, gazing at the steaming Lapsang before me, I became lost in reverie. tea

Bartholomew pawed my ankles even, but I am not superstitious, to ladder danger, desiring sweet biscuits. They were so bad for him.

He was the third dog I had had in London.

I was afraid, I realised, that I did not notice him enough. It was the first dog I noticed, and at the very beginning. You might have thought it strange for me to say these things, but you never knew Henry. Whether as a human mistake or one o the brand o Cain, as the Poet Laureate says---and he served in both capacities---he knew his job. I felt as if great asses of mice were pressing down on my head, with all the cold weight of my certainty.

Original page: page_82.pdf

Original text:

I forgot why I was sitting and staring at the 
table. I felt battered. What could the batter be? 
Ah, I remembered. I had looked upon carnal, 
bloody and unnatural acts. And then, gazing at 
the steaming Lapsang before me, I became lost 
in reverie. Bartholomew pawed my ankles even, 
but I am not superstitious, to ladder danger, 
desiring sweet biscuits. They were so bad for 
him. He was the third dog I had had in London. 
I was afraid, I realised, that I did not notice him 
enough. It was the first dog I noticed, and at 
the very beginning. You might have thought it 
strange for me to say these things, but you 
never knew Henry. Whether as a human 
mistake or one o the brand o Cain, as the Poet 
Laureate says---and he served in both 
capacities---he knew his job. I felt as if great 
asses of mice were pressing down on my head, 
with all the cold weight of my certainty. 

Italian text:

Dimenticai per quale motivo ero seduta a fissare il tavolo. Mi sentivo quasi come un uovo sbattuto. Ma per fare quale pastella, poi? Ah, rammentai. Avevo osservato atti carnali, sanguinosi, innaturali. Poi, fissando il Lapsang fumante di fronte a me, mi persi in una fantasticheria. Bartolomew mi tirava zampate sulle caviglie, rischiando di smagliarmi le calze, perché voleva i biscotti. Gli facevano molto male. Era il terzo cane che avevo a Londra. E temevo, mi resi con-to, di non dedicargli sufficienti attenzioni. Era stato il primo cane che avevo notato, e proprio all'inizio. Potreste pensare che sia strano che dica certe cose, ma non avete mai conosciuto Henry. Se errore umano o uno della stirpe di Caino, come dice il poeta laureato - e lui era stato entrambe le cose -, conosceva il suo lavoro. Mi sembrava di avere ammassi di ghiaccio sulla testa, con tutto il peso gelido della mia certezza.