dilodi83
Senior Member
- Joined
- Aug 27, 2006
- Member Type
- Interested in Language
- Native Language
- Italian
- Home Country
- Italy
- Current Location
- Italy
Could you tell me if it sounds good to an English ear? It has been very difficult to translate it from my mother tongue, but I tried and I'd be very grateful if you coould correct the possible mistakes (grammar and vocabulary) I have made. Thanks so much in advance for your help.
Italy 1889. It is almost morning... for the nth, damned time...
The obscure ritual of a warm bath, the choice of the proper dress to wear - so that everyone can desire me, notice me and envies me more than usual -, the violent (OR: strong?) attempts to tighten the corpet appropriately - until my damsels' hands bleed and I can hold in my own high sinuous hips, while I clench an hanky among my teeth to withstand the clean rhythmical and strong knots (OR: ties of the corpet) - and the careful comb-out of my reddish, long and too unruly hair...will be given up as soon as the first annoying noble bursts into (OR: breaks into?) the outside patio of the house to come and see the little Countess Miranda Gaironi, the one whom everyone thinks I am...
I hate having to wake up... and I cannot put up with the idea of stopping dreaming away of that man I love so much and whom I can never have. If only I could dream about him for ever... If only... I knew his name...
I cannot bear that life may not be a pleasing and, at the same time, a deceptive dream... I cannot bear not to be able to buy, for me, our wonderfully fascinating night dream... my mysterious he and I, concretely together, for ever...
Why does not Love give us a hand - just once - and prove to be easier? Why so many insurmountable difficulties? I only wish I could find him before I have to... before I... I do not want to pass away, thinking of not knowing (OR: meeting?) the true love... I do not want everything to be over without him.
The cellar of Villa Gaironi: the obscure reflection of my dark soul... I do remember the first time when I found them out ( IS IT CLEAR "TO FIND THEM OUT" REFERS TO THE CELLAR?)... I had just got back from what I used to consider an escape from some chilling realities I longed to get rid of more than a long strategic one year journey - to be honest, I just wanted to chase them away (OR: to sweep them away?) from my heart, not counting that the more you think to have taken it away and rejoiced in it, the more the past chases after you, like a silent and vindictive presence which knows maliciously inside out the meaning of Patience and the sadistic satisfaction coming from Waiting.
Villa Gaironi was thoroughly in ruins. All the furniture there was inside - the finest decorative textiles in the world, bookcases, antiques, paintings and family heirlooms - was hidden out by a thick dirt and greyish layer of mournful dust. The dust even managed to hide out the bloody stains (OR: marks?) on the bed my mother had been killed on and where I had seen the scene from, getting shocked by that terrible tragedy. From that point of view, I adored the dust, because it helped me not take into account and remember lots of those bad images I had pretended to rub out from my mind when I left.
All that belonged to my past... I think it was worth more than the loads of rare valuables I own, among which I sometimes roll, covering my body up with diamonds and very expensive uselessness...
That's right... it is impossible to take our past away (OR: to cancel?) - everybody admits it - I accept it submissively too! - but, concealing it... concealing is a very hard task and it is suitable only for those kind of people who are used to handling the art of lying. And if this is true, I can! I can convince myself that my past is better. That's what I forced myself to do - in great style, like I am used to doing it - when I came back from my escape journey... I pushed me to live a new life... but I was not able to foresee that, trying to avoid the fate, unwittingly I would have thrown myself into a small hell, just mine, where now it is hard and unmanageable to get back from.
After being come back to England - I was almost 15 - with my damsels and an old dwarf witch - to whom I had sworn loyalty in exchange for something more than a deal with Evil - while doing up my house, I found out that hidden trap-door I should never have opened up! Never! Immediately after finding it out, I also discovered a small dark staircase, wet and slippery, leading down to the cellar. There was a system of dark tunnels - where one could easily lose one's sense of direction -. These tunnels were chilly and gloomy furnished, and seemed able to move around, mixing themselves into hundreds of deceptive and shapeless puzzles. There was a background noise of flowing water and the whinings of spirits. The noise of the wind, blowing, could be heard.
I have immediately loved the cellar of Villa Gaironi because... the more you go down through those tunnels, the more the cold goes right through your skin irreparably, even though you pay much attention not to keep yourself too close to the walls or to immerse yourself in the water places... and I love everything that leads me to think about the icy eyes I yearn for... till a sweet madness...Those cellar turned into another new world for me... a perfect refuge to hide me out - to pretend to hide me out - from my worst fears; a refuge where I managed to flatter myself that I could be happy in the end - a bitter illusion (thinking to get it started from the beginning once again is always a plan that leads nowhere I should have known it, or suspected it anyhow) -; a refuge where to let me go undisturbed to every possible, impossible and unimaginable sensual pleasure, make-believieng all this is enough. Away from the English aristocracy's persistent attention, judging and insincerely guiltless, I would have forgotten to be a young Countess and I would have made some of my hidden desires possible, even those a little bit less immoral... or I would have tried it at least...
Briefly, I have always been frightened by everything and by everyone; I have always been the little Countess with electric flame red hair and sad navy blue eyes, who actually trembled and sobbed even when there was no reason for it - I have always been the weakest, the most mocked by everyone, the clumsiest and the most foolish; I was the ugly duckling, a bit hideous, unreal, rebuffed by everyone and excluded from anything. Undoubtedly, I was not doomed to turn into a charming rare swan, but when I got down into the wet and dark cellar of Villa Gaironi for the first time, I immediately realized that... it was me the one I should have been scared of. There was a monster turning around and around inside my body and being eager to hurt someone...it (OR: he?? REFERRING TO THE MONSTER) was able to change my soul into something terrible which got bigger unreasonably and handled me like a puppet from the inside of body...
And now, let's clear it up: whenever I talk about a warm and deep voice, slowly whispered to my ear and able to go deep through its meanderings and its hidden corners, the reader should try to think that this attractive body of mine quickly turns into a tremor of electrical fire that I could not control or held up either! A perfect type of chaos. At this stage, I guess it is useful to describe why I am so confused in my mind and so fully disorientated.
Probably, I am failing to clarify my intentions, assuming that I can still think it clearly.
Here is the clarification: when my dream ends up, actually, I start daydreaming over and over and the protagonist of my dreams is always the same. It is him, it is my prince charming, a little bit devil, trapped in a refined cage of secrets and mysteries.
Italy 1889. It is almost morning... for the nth, damned time...
The obscure ritual of a warm bath, the choice of the proper dress to wear - so that everyone can desire me, notice me and envies me more than usual -, the violent (OR: strong?) attempts to tighten the corpet appropriately - until my damsels' hands bleed and I can hold in my own high sinuous hips, while I clench an hanky among my teeth to withstand the clean rhythmical and strong knots (OR: ties of the corpet) - and the careful comb-out of my reddish, long and too unruly hair...will be given up as soon as the first annoying noble bursts into (OR: breaks into?) the outside patio of the house to come and see the little Countess Miranda Gaironi, the one whom everyone thinks I am...
I hate having to wake up... and I cannot put up with the idea of stopping dreaming away of that man I love so much and whom I can never have. If only I could dream about him for ever... If only... I knew his name...
I cannot bear that life may not be a pleasing and, at the same time, a deceptive dream... I cannot bear not to be able to buy, for me, our wonderfully fascinating night dream... my mysterious he and I, concretely together, for ever...
Why does not Love give us a hand - just once - and prove to be easier? Why so many insurmountable difficulties? I only wish I could find him before I have to... before I... I do not want to pass away, thinking of not knowing (OR: meeting?) the true love... I do not want everything to be over without him.
The cellar of Villa Gaironi: the obscure reflection of my dark soul... I do remember the first time when I found them out ( IS IT CLEAR "TO FIND THEM OUT" REFERS TO THE CELLAR?)... I had just got back from what I used to consider an escape from some chilling realities I longed to get rid of more than a long strategic one year journey - to be honest, I just wanted to chase them away (OR: to sweep them away?) from my heart, not counting that the more you think to have taken it away and rejoiced in it, the more the past chases after you, like a silent and vindictive presence which knows maliciously inside out the meaning of Patience and the sadistic satisfaction coming from Waiting.
Villa Gaironi was thoroughly in ruins. All the furniture there was inside - the finest decorative textiles in the world, bookcases, antiques, paintings and family heirlooms - was hidden out by a thick dirt and greyish layer of mournful dust. The dust even managed to hide out the bloody stains (OR: marks?) on the bed my mother had been killed on and where I had seen the scene from, getting shocked by that terrible tragedy. From that point of view, I adored the dust, because it helped me not take into account and remember lots of those bad images I had pretended to rub out from my mind when I left.
All that belonged to my past... I think it was worth more than the loads of rare valuables I own, among which I sometimes roll, covering my body up with diamonds and very expensive uselessness...
That's right... it is impossible to take our past away (OR: to cancel?) - everybody admits it - I accept it submissively too! - but, concealing it... concealing is a very hard task and it is suitable only for those kind of people who are used to handling the art of lying. And if this is true, I can! I can convince myself that my past is better. That's what I forced myself to do - in great style, like I am used to doing it - when I came back from my escape journey... I pushed me to live a new life... but I was not able to foresee that, trying to avoid the fate, unwittingly I would have thrown myself into a small hell, just mine, where now it is hard and unmanageable to get back from.
After being come back to England - I was almost 15 - with my damsels and an old dwarf witch - to whom I had sworn loyalty in exchange for something more than a deal with Evil - while doing up my house, I found out that hidden trap-door I should never have opened up! Never! Immediately after finding it out, I also discovered a small dark staircase, wet and slippery, leading down to the cellar. There was a system of dark tunnels - where one could easily lose one's sense of direction -. These tunnels were chilly and gloomy furnished, and seemed able to move around, mixing themselves into hundreds of deceptive and shapeless puzzles. There was a background noise of flowing water and the whinings of spirits. The noise of the wind, blowing, could be heard.
I have immediately loved the cellar of Villa Gaironi because... the more you go down through those tunnels, the more the cold goes right through your skin irreparably, even though you pay much attention not to keep yourself too close to the walls or to immerse yourself in the water places... and I love everything that leads me to think about the icy eyes I yearn for... till a sweet madness...Those cellar turned into another new world for me... a perfect refuge to hide me out - to pretend to hide me out - from my worst fears; a refuge where I managed to flatter myself that I could be happy in the end - a bitter illusion (thinking to get it started from the beginning once again is always a plan that leads nowhere I should have known it, or suspected it anyhow) -; a refuge where to let me go undisturbed to every possible, impossible and unimaginable sensual pleasure, make-believieng all this is enough. Away from the English aristocracy's persistent attention, judging and insincerely guiltless, I would have forgotten to be a young Countess and I would have made some of my hidden desires possible, even those a little bit less immoral... or I would have tried it at least...
Briefly, I have always been frightened by everything and by everyone; I have always been the little Countess with electric flame red hair and sad navy blue eyes, who actually trembled and sobbed even when there was no reason for it - I have always been the weakest, the most mocked by everyone, the clumsiest and the most foolish; I was the ugly duckling, a bit hideous, unreal, rebuffed by everyone and excluded from anything. Undoubtedly, I was not doomed to turn into a charming rare swan, but when I got down into the wet and dark cellar of Villa Gaironi for the first time, I immediately realized that... it was me the one I should have been scared of. There was a monster turning around and around inside my body and being eager to hurt someone...it (OR: he?? REFERRING TO THE MONSTER) was able to change my soul into something terrible which got bigger unreasonably and handled me like a puppet from the inside of body...
And now, let's clear it up: whenever I talk about a warm and deep voice, slowly whispered to my ear and able to go deep through its meanderings and its hidden corners, the reader should try to think that this attractive body of mine quickly turns into a tremor of electrical fire that I could not control or held up either! A perfect type of chaos. At this stage, I guess it is useful to describe why I am so confused in my mind and so fully disorientated.
Probably, I am failing to clarify my intentions, assuming that I can still think it clearly.
Here is the clarification: when my dream ends up, actually, I start daydreaming over and over and the protagonist of my dreams is always the same. It is him, it is my prince charming, a little bit devil, trapped in a refined cage of secrets and mysteries.
